A Simple Thing
by SuperKateB
Summary: Memories can be washed away like grains of sand, given the right conditions. She knew that much, but she didn't know exactly what memories she was missing until she stumbled upon a quiet, beautiful orchestra teacher... Will her life ever be the same?
1. Prolouge

Memory. A simple thing, right?  
  
Many psychiatrists agree that studying human memory is one of the   
hardest parts of psychoanalytical education. Memory is subjective, collective,  
vital to human contentment, and yet completely unnecessary for a healthy life.  
Children struggle to remember what they ate for breakfast, teenagers remain  
bitter over yesterday's arguments with friends and parents, adults strive to   
memorize each happy moment of their lives, and the elderly regress to not   
knowing what they ate for breakfast. It's a thing that all people share, and   
yet something that no one can completely understand.  
  
Serenity knew this as she walked across the marble dais and up to the  
pedestal. As the Queen of the Earth, she had studied many subjects in and out  
of the university, and psychology had been one of her favorites. She especially  
loved the sections about memory and memory loss. Amnesia, selective memory   
loss, photographic memory, memorization techniques... She knew and loved it   
all. Not a day went by when she regaled one of us with her newest memory-  
related fact. But that had been years before, before the Black Moon and the   
war between past and present, before her own daughter had died in training to   
become a Sailor Senshi... It was before life had become such a task.  
  
I suppose that her action should not have come as a shock to any of   
us. The weekly meeting of her color guard - the joking name, of course, she   
had given the rest of the senshi and I - was unusually short. Serenity's   
silence did not bode well, and most of what she said was cryptic.   
  
"I have many thoughts of the past," she assured us after one of the   
inners had said a few disparaging comments about her aloofness. Her blue eyes   
glanced away from all of us, staring at the floor. "My thoughtfulness precedes  
my words this morning."  
  
Talk about out of character moments. Never before had the neo-queen   
been so polite and soft-spoken about something. No one needed to tell me   
that something was wrong. I could sense it.  
  
And so, only a few hours later, the Queen of the Earth strode across  
the dais and stood before the pedestal. She had erected the pedestal especially  
for the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou - the Silver Crystal of the Moon Kingdom of  
old. She was afraid that Chibi-Usa or another meddlesome being would attempt  
to seize the ginzuishou, and that was too big of a risk for Serenity. So she  
placed a pedestal in the darkest vault in the basement of Crystal Palace.   
Rarely did a soul venture into such depths. Even the queen herself disliked   
visiting her prized possession.  
  
Until then. Then, at that moment, she seized the crystal from its   
place on the dais and held it above her head. Silver light flared around her,  
sparkling, a brilliant reminder of the power of the ginzuishou.  
  
Memories flooded into the mind of the Earth's one queen. Memories of   
pain, of sorrow, of suffering and loss. Memories she had wished, for so long,  
to forget.  
  
Blue eyes closed, and a voice - soft, melodious, tearful - echoed   
above the hum of the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou.  
  
"I command thee, Crystal of Silver," she breathed, "that the Sailor  
Senshi of old forget all their trials and toil until the day comes for Tsukino  
Usagi to accept the throne of the Earth."  
  
And, just as in a fairy tale, it was done.  
  
Memories washed away, lost forever, as though it was a simple thing. 


	2. Leaves off the Tree

"Every day's a brand new sky..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter I - "Leaves Off the Tree"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
I awoke with a groan to the sound of my shrill alarm clock. It bleated  
angrily at me, as though it had been personally offended twenty minutes earlier  
when I had hit the 'snooze' button. And yet, I thought dully as I shut it off  
and sat up in bed, it should have been used to such treatment. It was the   
daily routine.   
  
At least something in life was routine. I dragged myself out of bed   
and stumbled toward the bathroom door, the hardwood floor of my apartment cold  
against my bare feet. It seemed to me that nothing, nothing at ALL, could go   
correctly, no matter how hard I tried. I woke up twenty minutes late every   
morning. I took a hot shower and threw on track pants before stumbling into the  
office. It was the same thing, every day, and why I bothered -   
  
The phone rang, breaking through my mental train wreck. Groaning,   
I ignored my throbbing bladder and stumbled back over discarded clothes and   
shoes to my nightstand. "Moshi moshi," I muttered into the receiver once I   
could find it, though I admit my greeting sounded more like "mshmshi."  
  
"Ten'ou-san?" questioned a chipper, happy-go-lucky female voice from   
the other end. I grunted an affirmative which was quickly followed by a   
relieved sigh from the stranger. "This is Karimi Kaoru from the Tokyo   
Department of Schools," she introduced herself hastily. I could hear fingers  
clicking across a keyboard in the background. "One of the physical education   
teachers at Giakiin High School just left on pregnancy leave, and none of our   
active substitutes can step in for such a long period time."  
  
My nose wrinkled, but I didn't want to seem rude. "Continue," I urged  
her, glancing at my clock. My editor would absolutely skin me if I wasn't in  
by seven-thirty, and it was already rounding six as the woman chirped away.  
  
"I found your name in our database. According to your file, you haven't  
taught physical education for three years, but we could REALLY use your help."  
She paused, and I could practically hear her flinch. "Could you possibly step  
in?" came the inevitable question after a moment of silence.   
  
I sighed and considered this. Education wasn't really my thing, and -   
as much as I enjoyed sports - the thought of coping with pimple-faced teens  
for the next six weeks made my stomach turn. Substitute teaching had been a way  
to earn money for journalism school, nothing more. As it ended up, my free  
lancing was good enough, and I never needed to go to school for reporting. No,  
I had bought a car with the money - a nice, fast, American convertible. It  
was yellow, it was streamline, it was FAST.   
  
"Ten'ou-san?"  
  
The query brought me back to my senses, and I sighed. "I just don't   
know, Miss... Uhm..."  
  
"Karimi."  
  
"Right. Karimi-san." I chewed on my bottom lip in thought. "I'm a   
writer, you know. For the 'Tokyo Daily.' I just don't know if I have time   
for such an obligation, especially when I need to pay my rent." I left out  
the part about all the money I had made in motocross, and the fact that THAT  
was how I paid the rent. It just didn't seem important. "It's a tough decision.  
Could I get back to you?"  
  
Karimi paused, and I could imagine her dilemma. Here was a lower level  
secretary for a huge, significant organization, an organization that subsidized  
the education for every student in the city of Tokyo. She had probably been  
working for the last three or four days trying to find a soul desperate enough  
to step in for the pregnant educator. Somehow, she stumbled across the name  
of a once-starving college student, and thought she could get off easy.  
  
She sighed. "Please, Ten'ou-san," she pleaded with me, her voice   
begging. "You're the last name on our list."  
  
I groaned. I'm a sucker for playing the knight in shining armor. "When  
do you want me?"  
  
I was given the time and directions to the school, and my fate was   
sealed.  
  
---  
  
"What do you MEAN you're going on a six-week hiatus?" roared my editor,  
slamming his fist on the desk as he spoke. I flinched inwardly but managed to  
remain calm, tossing my sandy hair as if it didn't matter to me if I lived  
or died. "You can't just leave the 'Daily' for a month and a half and expect  
to be let back into your position, and you KNOW it!"  
  
I shrugged a bit and moved to brush my bangs from my eyes. Hageshii  
Okuno was a large, powerful man, built with intimidatingly broad shoulders and  
a sharp, piercing gaze. At thirty-four, he was the youngest editor to ever sit  
in the 'Daily' building, and the fact that he manned the local beat was more   
impressive than the fact that he was an editor at all. He loomed above my   
five-foot, eight-inch frame and seemed dead-set on scaring me sooner or later.  
  
"It's nothing personal, Okuno-kun," I addressed him with a small frown,  
pursing my lips and avoiding his gaze. Whenever he went off on me, I knew, it  
was more out of concern than out of anger. He was like the brother I never had,  
a man I could respect and work shoulder-to-shoulder with...which was less than  
I could say about the rest of my colleagues. "Remember how I used to teach,   
before I wrote full-time?"  
  
He huffed into his fuzzy black moustache. "Yeah?" he growled. I could  
tell he wanted nothing to do with my anecdote. "You have a point or just   
telling tales?"  
  
Rolling my eyes, I rose and stood before him, eyes level. "I'm a last-  
ditch effort for a high school the same way that I'm always a last-ditch for   
you. You run to me when you can't find someone to write a dull-ass article,  
and they just ran to me, too, for a whole different kind of help." I smirked,  
rested my hands on my hips. "Besides, the more schoolgirls I can seduce,  
the better."  
  
Okuno laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "I don't want you to   
lose your job over this, Haruka," he told me in his normal, brotherly manner.  
"You're young, you're quick, and you've got years of good journalism ahead   
of you, even if you DID come out of nowhere. I don't want to see you ruin it  
all for yourself." He gestured towards his desk and the rest of his tiny,  
cramped corner office. "Someday, I want to let you have all these things I got.  
I want YOU to be the youngest editor for Tokyo's local beat, sometime."  
  
"Only when you get promoted to editor-in-chief," I joked, moving away  
from him to gather up my suit coat. It was a tight tan blazer, just form-  
fitting enough to hide who I really was from the world. Glancing at it, I   
sighed and shook my head. Why was it that, after three years as one of the   
'Daily' regulars, I was still terrified to reveal who I really was?   
  
He saw me look at my jacket in that peculiar way and smiled sadly. "Do  
you teach boys or girls, at that high school job of yours?" he questioned,   
nodding toward my coat. "Or is it mixed?"  
  
"Mostly girls," I responded, slinging my arms into the tan monstrosity  
and tugging it on. I button it just below my breasts and tug it into the   
perfect place, making certain that it hides the nature curve of my form. It  
does, and I smile sadly. "Call me if you need me, ne?"  
  
Okuno smiled and nodded, and then paused. "You ever going to come clean  
with the rest of the world?" he asked as he followed me to his door. There was   
a certain quiet pity in his eyes, and I had to really strive to ignore it.   
"Or are you just going to play Haruka-kun for the rest of your life...instead  
of Haruka-chan?"  
  
I glowered. He laughed. "I'll call you," he smirked before opening the  
door and shoving me out. "Behave with the school girls."  
  
I rolled my eyes again and started across the press room toward my   
doom.  
  
---  
  
As a child, autumn was always my favorite season. I loved running   
around through the fallen leaves and tromping through the mud in my goulashes.  
Fall rejuvenated me, made the pieces whole, gave me reason and method to my  
madness. Nothing made me happier.  
  
I strode briskly across the Giakiin High campus, my shoes crushing   
brown and fallen leaves with every step. I had been assigned three classes  
of first-year girls, something I had expected and yet dreaded all the same.   
I hated teaching giggly schoolgirls, and being assigned to first-year students  
just sealed my fate. Welcome to six weeks of absolute Hell, I thought to myself  
irritably as I followed the arrows toward the women's lockers.   
  
A few girls blushed shyly and waved as I passed, recognizing nothing  
about me beyond the "Ten'ou Haruka: Physical Education Department" badge I   
wore on my coat. The male students glanced awkwardly at me, doubtlessly jealous  
of my stunning good looks.  
  
My eternal, inner dilemma flared up as I walked across that campus.   
At my first high school, Mugen Gakuen, no one had ever managed to figure out I   
was a female. It just never came up. I was the handsome runner, Ten'ou Haruka,  
and that was that.   
  
Not that it mattered. I dropped out of that high school after my second   
year and started taking classes elsewhere. I had never been really sure why  
I had done that, either, but sometimes, you don't question. You just DO.  
  
I pushed past a kissing couple and opened the door to the women's   
locker room. The period before I was supposed to teach had only a few minutes  
left, and many students were lounging around the locker room, gossiping.   
Those who saw me blushed and immediately adverted their eyes. One whispered,  
"What a cute new teacher! Should we tell him that these are the girls' lockers?"  
I groaned at the utterance and continued to walk.  
  
The teachers' lockers lined the back of the room, complete with key-  
only locks. I found the one that had been hastily labeled "Ten'ou" and opened  
it without incident. A few girls glanced cautiously at me, not sure what to  
say.  
  
Silence ensued as I tugged out my school-issued sweatsuit and started  
to unbutton my blazer. It was almost like a motionless tug-of-war. It was   
me, the supposed male teacher, versus the giggling mass of schoolgirls. Oh,  
the humanity.  
  
"Ano, sensei?" gulped one of the green-and-gold garbed females. She was  
a short, pigtailed thing, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that  
she was embarrassed by her male teacher. "You DO realize that this is the girls'  
locker room, ne?"  
  
I nodded, smiling as best I could. "My name is Ten'ou Haruka," I   
introduced myself pleasantly, "and I've been sent to replace Yahii-sensei."  
  
"But Yahii-sensei was a GIRL," quipped someone from the back of the   
room.   
  
Turning around, I pulled off my blazer and began to remove my dress   
shirt, as well. "It's good to know that I won't be teaching the young lady   
who flunked anatomy," I shot back, tugging at the buttons with fervor, now.   
Might as well get the embarrassment over with, my mind insisted. Better to   
suffer gladly with who I was than to later cope with the shock.  
  
That had been my mistake when I was a student teacher. I had hidden  
in the bathroom to change, and - more often than not - the students just   
assumed that the school had mistakenly put my teacher's locker in the girl's  
room. I never let on to the truth. What was the point? A day here and there...  
They never knew the difference!  
  
"Y-you're a girl, too?" asked the pigtailed one again, her eyes   
blossoming as I pulled of my shirt to reveal my full-developed, bra-clad  
chest. "But you look so..."  
  
The bell rang, and she trailed off into an out-of-tune D-flat. Many  
of the girls rushed out of the lockers, undoubtedly anxious to tell all their   
little friends about the hot new teacher...who was also female. Some cast   
sideways, disgusted looks at me. I wasn't surprised by that, for some reason.  
It seemed almost logical that they would be sickened by a woman who dressed  
and acted like a man. Everyone else was disgusted, after all.  
  
I pulled the sweatshirt on and went about changing my pants. It's just  
another day, I reminded myself as a few girls began to file into the locker   
room. Nothing more than another day.  
  
---  
  
Teaching high school is a blessing and a curse, and I'll be the first   
to admit it. High schoolers think they're at the same level of maturity and   
responsibility as you are, and nothing short of a lightning bolt will convince  
them otherwise. I introduced myself to my first class of blundering sixteen-  
year-old girls, and I could sense the power struggle starting as I finished   
explaining how I taught. Already, the girls were glancing at one another with  
raised eyebrows, silently asking, "Is she for real?"  
  
I sighed and brushed my hair out of my eyes before leaning back against  
the wall of the field house. "I'm for real," I told them bluntly, catching most  
the students off guard with my non-sequitor statement. "I know what it's like  
to have a substitute. I've tortured quite a few in my day, just as I'm sure  
each and every one of you had." A few snickered. One tossed her hair. "But I'm  
pretty easy to get along with. You respect me, I respect you."   
  
No one seemed to care about respect. A dull, whispered chatter had   
sparked, and three or four of the girls in the back were bowing their heads and  
muttering something. One laughed, a little too loudly, and immediately covered  
her mouth. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Do any of you know what my real profession is?"  
  
A girl in the front - a pale girl with shoulder-length, dark hair and   
bright purple eyes - raised her hand politely. I glanced down at her to ask  
her to answer, but something came over me. A shiver ran up my spine, as though  
a cold hand had just caressed my back. Something about the strange, young girl,  
was unerringly familiar. It was almost as though I had seen her before...  
  
I coughed, tossed my hair, and forced a smile. "Yes?" I acknowledged  
her, nodding.  
  
She smiled shyly. "Ten'ou-sensei is a journalist, ne?"   
  
The talking stopped there, and everyone looked at the pale girl in   
shock. "Hotaru-chan never says ANYTHING," whispered one girl to her friend,   
eyes wide in surprise. "I didn't know she COULD talk."  
  
Hotaru-chan, as she had been called, blushed and pursed her lips   
together. Her purple-eyed gaze focused intently on the floor.  
  
"I am a journalist," I nodded, hands on my hips. I was weary to smile  
down at the shy girl, for fear that I would get the same deja vu as before.   
So, instead, I stepped forward to stand right in front of the group of twenty,  
my lithe form overshadowing them in their sweatshirts and little gym shorts.  
"And journalism has an unwritten rule that you respect EVERYONE to their face,   
no matter how they look, act, or treat you." I bit my lip, trying to think of   
a way to explain the concept; when Okuno had explained it to me, every other  
word had been a curse, and somehow, I didn't think that was appropriate for a  
bunch of sixteen-year-olds. "Even if you're talking to someone for an article  
and they lash out at you, you carry on. You don't shoot lip back, you don't   
curse, you just take notes and mentally prepare your article as if nothing ever  
happened. It's a law.  
  
"We're going to live by this law in my class." I crossed my arms over  
my chest matter-of-factly, and I found pride in the fact that not a single girl  
was talking. They were all staring, wide-eyed, at me, as though I was some sort  
of scarily magnificent creature. "We're going to respect everyone the same, no  
matter what they do. If your friend, enemy, WHATEVER lashes out at you, I   
expect you to ignore it. I'll deal with the rest." I smiled. "Now, we're going  
to play basketball. Got it?"  
  
There was a collective, if dull, nod from all the students.  
  
Triumph came again to Ten'ou Haruka. "Good."  
  
---  
  
I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and stretched. The day had gone   
without a major hitch, and I was grateful for it. The first couple days, I knew,  
were going to be small power struggles with the students, but I had faith in   
myself... Well, mostly, at least.  
  
As I strode into the crisp fall air, I couldn't shake the unsettling   
feeling that had surfaced when the quiet girl in my first class spoke to me.   
There was something about her soft, bright eyes that shook me. I knew that I   
had never seen her before, and yet it felt as though I had. Mentally, I tore  
myself apart, searching desperately for a connection.   
  
Could I have subbed for her once before? Not unless this was her third  
or fourth time through her first year of high school, my mind chided. Well, if  
not that, could she have ever been at the paper office for something? She knew   
I was journalist, after all, and Okuno and the other editors were always   
sponsoring tours. Still, I had only ever been present for two tours, and one   
had been a group of college journalists. Come to think of it, BOTH groups were  
college students, so it couldn't have been then. Maybe... Perhaps...   
  
"Ten'ou-san!" called out a voice, and I turned at the utterance of my   
name. Jogging up to me was a young woman in a blue-and-white sundress. Her   
reddish-brown bobbed hair bounced with every step. "Wait up!"  
  
I groaned. The last thing I wanted to deal with was an insane colleague.  
Where were the male teachers when I needed them.  
  
Huffing and puffing, the woman skidded to a halt before me. "I...was  
hoping...that I would get to meet you..." she panted, obviously short of breath.  
After a moment, she straightened up and offered forth a hand. "I'm Hagitashi   
Megumi," she introduced herself, seizing my hand and shaking it excitedly. "I   
teach upper-level English and basic-level Japanese."  
  
"What a combination," I muttered softly before I became completely   
cognizant of her bright blue eyes on me. "I mean... What a challenge, to teach  
both subjects!" I blushed slightly as I spoke, certain that she had heard my   
rude quip. "It must take a lot out of you."  
  
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I know what you said, Ten'ou-san, and  
I'm not offended by it." Megumi released my hand and crossed her arms loosely  
over her stomach. "I just... I wanted to thank you."  
  
My eyebrows arched involuntarily, and I didn't try to stop them. "Thank  
me?" I questioned, a bit confused by what she meant. I couldn't think of how   
I would have helped this woman, unless... I chuckled and shrugged. "Karimi-san  
was very convincing," I responded after a moment. "The school needed me so   
badly that - "  
  
"Who?" cut in the redhead with a rather profound blink.  
  
"Karimi-san. The woman at the Department of Education...?"  
  
Laughing - something she seemed to do a lot - the other teacher shook  
her head. "Oh, I'm not thanking you for being a substitute," she told me with  
a noncommittal wave of her hand. "I'm thanking you for making Hotaru come out   
of her shell just a bit today. One of my other students told me about it, and   
I was really refreshed to know that she isn't totally hiding in her shell   
again."  
  
I pursed my lips and nodded slightly. There was that dark-haired girl  
again! I wondered if Kami was purposely setting me up for all the deja vu, just  
for amusement. "I didn't realize that she was so very shy until after she   
spoke," I responded nonchalantly, hands in my pockets. "She raised her hand,   
and I called on her."  
  
If life were an animated series, I believe Megumi's eyes would have   
popped out of her head. "She raised her hand?" she questioned, gaping at me.  
"I hardly believe it!"  
  
"Do students generally not raise their hands here...?" I prompted,   
suddenly very confused.  
  
She laughed again, and I somehow resisted the urge to roll my eyes.   
"Hotaru has been in my English III class since the beginning of the year," she  
explained, her mirth fading to a soft concern as she spoke. "A very bright   
girl, but also very introverted. She doesn't say anything, very often, and I   
have never seen her raise her hand in class."   
  
I pursed my lips, unsure of what to say. How could I explain away the   
fact that this girl - a girl I didn't know but felt I did - had raised her hand  
and known my profession when no one else did. And, more than that, how could  
I explain away the fact without telling Megumi how odd it felt?  
  
"Well, Hagitashi-san - "  
  
"Megumi."  
  
"Okay, Megumi-san, I guess I really can't - "  
  
And it was at that exact moment that I saw...HER.  
  
She was garbed in a long, flowing pink dress, the kind of dress you see  
famous models wearing when they're wandering down the street, her long waves of  
aquamarine hair clipped back at the nape of her neck. As it was, she stood about  
halfway across the campus courtyard from me, doubled over as she picked up what  
appeared to be sheet music.  
  
I gulped down the lump that had just risen in my throat and gestured   
shakily to the strange woman at the end of the courtyard. "Who's that?" I asked  
of Megumi, my voice nearly catching in my chest.  
  
Megumi turned around, glanced at the woman, and then shrugged as though  
it was nothing. "Ah, that's just Kaioh Michiru, our orchestra director," she   
responded casually, unconcerned. "She's nice, but awfully quiet. I've eaten  
lunch with her for the last four years and never ONCE has she said more than  
three words to me about anything substantial. Sure, she talks about the   
orchestra and all the playing she does and how much she loves the violin, but  
she doesn't talk about her family or anything like that. She seems normal   
enough, though."  
  
I watched with wide eyes and a dropped jaw as she straightened the   
papers in her arms and continued across the courtyard and toward the faculty   
parking lot. If I was endowed with any sense of social gumption, I would have  
run after her to introduce myself, but...  
  
Another shiver ran up my spine, and I fidgeted. The same feeling that  
surfaced with Hotaru-chan had just come back...  
  
"But anyway," drawled Megumi, snapping me out of my mental field trip,  
"I want to hear more about Hotaru. Did she REALLY raise her hand?"   
  
Blinking, I nodded and began to relate the story dully, my mind still  
fixated on Kaioh Michiru.  
  
---  
  
Okuno guffawed from his end of the phone, voice so loud that I had to   
hold the receiver six inches from my ears. "Hearing you say deja vu in ANY   
context is funnier than the time I let Dekino write that article on the Juuban  
Art Festival!" he laughed at me. "Especially since you're feeling it in reply  
to a WOMAN. Ho-boy, when the guys at the office find out that their tough-cookie  
Ten'ou-san's found herself - or himself, as they all may believe - a woman,  
they're going to have a field day!"  
  
I rolled my eyes. So much for a sympathetic ear to lean on. "I kid you  
not, Okuno," I confided, beginning to pace back and forth across my kitchen.  
"It DID happen. I looked at the little dark-haired girl in my third period   
class and I felt suddenly like I knew her. I felt like I should run up and   
hug her and mother her, like I had held her as a baby, like I..." I sighed and  
shook my head. "I can't explain it. I just FELT it."  
  
He snorted. "And this - what was it, Kaiho? - chick did the same thing?"  
  
"Kaioh." I had not allowed myself to forget anything about her, whether  
it was her name, her profession, or the gentle curl of her long hair. I   
committed the scene to complete and total memory and - when I closed my eyes -   
I could see her bending over to pick up her sheet music in my mind. "It was   
different with her. With HER, I felt..." I blushed and stopped in my mad pacing.  
"I felt that I loved her, right then and there."  
  
For a moment, my boss was completely silent. The only sound from his   
end of the connection was his fingers on computer keys, something I had become  
used to years before - even when he was having a heart-to-heart conversation,  
he was typing up his article for deadline. Then, he sighed. "Do you even know  
who Kaioh Michiru IS?" he asked after a moment, his voice a bit gruff.  
  
I frowned, my brow furrowing. "She's an orchestra teacher at Giakiin - "  
  
"No, she's not," he responded gruffly. Then, he paused. "Okay, well,  
she is NOW," he acquiesced, knowing that I would make some smart-ass comment if  
he wasn't careful. At least, the usual Haruka would, but this was a day that   
I was about as far from the usual Haruka as I could get. "But Kaioh Michiru  
was, at one point, a world-renowned violinist. Traveled all over, played with   
people like The Three Tenors and Charlotte Church and even some J-Pop artists,  
like the Three Lights." He sighed, and I didn't need to ask to know he was   
frowning. "But she quit all of a sudden when she hit eighteen. Said she had   
'lost her passion' for the instrument."  
  
My heart skipped a beat. "B-but," I stammered, my hands shaking. My   
whole body went cold and clammy. "That's the same reason I gave..."  
  
"...for leaving motocross, I know," finished Okuno for me. Again, he  
allowed a heavy sigh to echo across the connection. "I don't want to sound like  
a pessimist or some sort of naysayer, Haruka, but I think you'd be better off  
not exploring your deja vu. I mean, if she used the same reason you did for   
quitting what she loved only a few short weeks after you did..." He paused.  
"It's too weird."  
  
I nodded, thanked him, and hung up the phone.  
  
That evening, I sat alone on the window seat in my apartment, staring  
out at the slowly setting Tokyo sunshine and the coming nighttime sky. The  
steam from my coffee left a mark of fog on the windowpane, the condensation   
slight and yet still significant enough to block just a tiny portion of my   
sight.  
  
I wondered if there was fog over a portion of my memories, too. For  
years, I had struggled with remembering simple little things - where my parents  
had died, why I switched schools during my second year of high school, why I   
always kept two golden, crescent-moon earrings in my bureau drawer even though  
I never wore them. I didn't remember buying a few of the paintings that were   
displayed in my apartment, I couldn't recall replacing my car battery three  
years earlier even when the mechanic could, I had forgotten why I bought a   
pair of blue-black, high-heeled boots. It was unsettling, the little things I   
fought to recall and yet NEVER COULD.  
  
With the day's events, I found myself plagued by wonders. Why had that   
girl made me feel like a mother? Why had the orchestra teacher made me feel   
like a lover? I was certain that the two had nothing in common, not a thing   
at all, and yet...  
  
And yet...  
  
I sighed, downed the rest of my coffee, and pulled shut my drapes. "No  
use worrying about the things you can't change," I told myself bluntly,   
crossing to the kitchen and dumping my cup in the sink. I could wash it, along  
with my dinner dishes, in the morning. "I guess I'll just have to live with  
it. I'm probably just a candidate for early Alzheimer's or something."  
  
And then, I turned off the light and went to bed.  
  
---  
End Chapter I  
--- 


	3. She

"Every tear comes to dry..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter II - "She"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
A few days went by and, as much as I didn't enjoy admitting it, I ended  
up making a pretty decent gym teacher. Those students who, the first day, had   
gaped wide-eyed at me in the locker room now smiled and greeted me cheerily   
as I crossed campus. "Ten'ou-sensei, look this way!" they called. "I got a   
perfect score on my math test, sensei!" "Perhaps you can substitute for my class  
sometime, sensei? My friends don't believe you're a woman, and I want to prove  
them wrong!" Respect, as delicate as it is, was mine for the taking, and in   
taking it, I gave it right back. The students liked that.   
  
They liked ME.  
  
Megumi, for all her giggly tendencies and slightly adolescent attitude,  
became my only friend in the world. She tried to introduce me to other teachers,  
dragged me to a few social events, forced me to eat lunch with the principal  
and his secretary. I didn't enjoy that aspect of my career in education, and I   
told her so over a lunch of egg salad on my third day at Giakiin.  
  
She laughed. "Haruka," she chided, having decided on my first day that   
the too of us should be on a first-name basis, "what are you going to do for  
the next six weeks, then? Hide in the locker room every day!"  
  
I told her that it didn't sound half-bad, and she laughed again.  
  
Of course, social occasions were the least of my worries. I only avoided  
them because I wanted to avoid HER. Kaioh Michiru. It seemed that she was always  
lurking around one corner or another, always with her head peaking around the   
corner, always with her bright blue eyes shining as she talked to the other   
teachers. She was beautiful, and I couldn't deny it. Still, despite all my   
hotheaded adoration, I didn't know if I could talk to her. Okuno's warning   
echoed in my ears every time I saw her, and my own nerves did a double back flip  
in the pit of my stomach each time I thought of that first day I saw her. It   
seemed that I should remember her from somewhere, something... But I didn't.  
  
It was Thursday, and it seemed that September was getting colder. I   
found myself running into the main building from the parking lot, my breath   
crystallizing in the air as I exhaled. "I hate the cold," I muttered to myself,   
kicking off my Nikes as I entered the building and searching for my Giakiin-  
issue indoor shoes. I had a meeting with the rest of the physical education   
department that morning about getting new gymnastic equipment. I had been   
told by the department chair that I didn't HAVE to go, but he had also hinted  
that he wanted the input of someone who had once been a well-known high school  
athlete. I had sighed and told him I'd be there.  
  
"I am not a fan of this weather, either," responded a soft, feminine   
voice from nearby. I looked up from tying my laces, only to see bright blue   
eyes staring into my face. I nearly fell over.  
  
The orchestra instructor chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her  
face. "Ten'ou Haruka, ne?" she questioned of me, her pink lips pursed into a  
polite smile. "You're the substitute for Yahii, if I'm not mistaken." She   
extended a hand. "I'm - "  
  
"Kaioh Michiru," I finished, reaching up to shake hands with her. Her  
skin was soft and rich, and I could smell lilacs as I rose to stand face-to-  
face with her. Or, more accurately, chest-to-face; she was a good three or four  
inches shorter than I. "I've heard much about you from Megumi-san."  
  
The musician blushed, and I could tell that the mention of the English   
teacher made her uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I try not to bother Megumi-san too  
much," she responded, folding her hands over her flat stomach as she spoke.   
"Do you spend much time with her? You two seem...close..."  
  
I cursed my masculine shoulders and androgynous form. A case of mistaken  
identity had struck again. Oh well, I told myself with an inner shrug, I'll just  
run with her assumption that I'm a male.   
  
"Well, Megumi and I are...friends," I replied ambiguously. Frankly, I   
didn't want to think of the always-laughing redhead as too much of a friend.  
Friendship was not something I took lightly, and - at least in my mind - it had  
to be EARNED. "But what about you? Don't you eat with her sometimes?"  
  
"Occasionally," nodded Michiru, glancing awkwardly at her watch as she  
spoke. She seemed as nervous and speechless as I was, and I couldn't help but   
wonder what was going on in her head. Then, she swallowed audibly and looked up  
at me, eyes filled with hope. "Ten'ou-san, do you believe in...Fate?"  
  
I froze. Fate? How was I supposed to answer that?  
  
I didn't have to, because someone called my name just then. It was   
one of the other physical education teachers, a loud, brash man whose name I   
could never really remember. "Ten'ou!" he shouted, pointing down the hallway.   
"We're waiting on you in here!"  
  
Flushing, I nodded and watched him retreat. "Gomen ne, Kaioh-san," I   
told the beautiful woman next to me. I hastily grabbed my gym bag and slung it  
over my shoulder. "I'll have to answer your question at a later date, alright?"  
  
Michiru smiled. "Don't worry," she responded with a small shrug and a  
knowing look on her face. "We'll see each other again."  
  
---  
  
See each other again? I mulled over Michiru's words at lunch, my eyes   
staring blankly at a copy of that morning's "Daily." Why in the world did she   
think that we would see each other again? If I had successfully avoided her for  
nearly a week, I could probably keep it up for the subsequent five.   
  
I sighed and chewed thoughtfully on my turkey burger. What was it about  
her? Again, seeing her gave me that feeling that I should know her. And hearing  
her voice did it again. My mind ran away from me, imagining all the places I   
could have met her. A high school track meet? No, she was too musical. A   
motocross competition? No, she would never get near that much mud. One of my   
piano recitals in junior high? Yeah, when pigs fly, maybe.  
  
"Haruka!" scolded Megumi, plopping down in the chair across from me   
unexpectedly. I gave a start, having had my daydreams ripped apart suddenly.   
"I thought we were going out today, and now I find you here, eating..." She   
peered at my lunch suspiciously. "Did you just totally have a brain lapse or   
something?"  
  
Rolling my eyes, I folded up the paper and shrugged. "Sorry," I quickly  
apologized, only half-faking my regret for ditching her. "I had a lot on my   
mind this morning and just totally forgot."  
  
She laughed softly, glanced up at me, and then frowned. "What's wrong?"  
she asked. I suppose I should have worked harder at hiding my emotions if I   
hadn't wanted her to know I was out of it. I mentally kicked myself for   
forgetting our lunch plans. "You really don't seem like yourself today..."  
  
I sighed. "I'm not feeling well," I lied, taking a bite out of my   
sandwich and chewing deliberately. "I had to get in early, and I got a really   
bad parking spot and had to walk in the cold, and then - "  
  
"May I sit down?" asked a familiar voice.   
  
I nearly choked on my sandwich as Megumi began to gush. "Michiru-san!  
Of COURSE you can sit with us!" I watched in both delight and horror as my  
happy-go-lucky lunch date pulled out the chair next to me and gestured for the  
director to sit down. "Ten'ou Haruka, this is Kaioh Michiru, our orchestra   
instructor. Michiru, this is Haruka, and she substitutes - "  
  
"I know," smiled Michiru calmly in a soft, polite voice as she set down  
her bowl of ramen. "We met this morning."  
  
I saw Megumi's blue eyes light up, and I groaned inwardly. Why did I  
suddenly dread the moment the aquamarine-haired beauty stood to leave?  
  
Instead, I focused intently on my lunch and said nothing. The redhead,  
of course, chirped merrily about all the things that had gone on during the  
first half of the day: one of her students had thrown his pencil out the window  
in anger; she confused her students into thinking "egg" actually meant "elbow";  
and she finished correcting what she called a "sea" of papers on the importance  
of being a good citizen. I listened to her chatter and couldn't help but be   
amused. No wonder she called Michiru quiet! She didn't let the orchestra director  
get a word in edge-wise.  
  
When Megumi had finally paused for air, Michiru leaned in front of me   
and picked up the section of the paper that I had left setting on the table.  
The scent of lilacs flooded my nostrils, a soothing and familiar scent that I   
was certain I had smelled all my life. "This is a copy of the 'Tokyo Daily,'   
is it not?" she asked of me, opening the paper with interest. "Don't you write  
for the paper?"  
  
"I used to," I admitted, sipping my black coffee slowly. "I took a leave  
of absence to be a teacher here."  
  
The redhead across from me blinked a few times, and then laughed. "You   
gave up job at the newspaper to teach high school physical education? Are you   
INSANE?" Her smile faded as she saw that I wasn't laughing along with her.   
"Sorry," she flinched, embarrassed that she had just mocked me so.  
  
I shrugged. "It's alright," I responded. "My editor said the exact   
same thing to me when I quit. It's hard for anyway to climb the ranks at the   
paper, and you have to hang on for dear life once you make it to the top."  
I glanced warily at Michiru and sighed. "Especially when you're a woman."  
  
"I admire when I woman works in what is usually a man's profession,"  
the musician smiled, setting the paper down on the table as she spoke. "It   
shows that you have great strength and dedication to your line of work."  
  
My eyebrows arched, and I forced myself to keep my cool. I raked a   
hand through my short hair. "Thanks," I told her a bit shortly, pushing back   
my chair. I picked up my empty tray and smiled. "But if you two will excuse   
me, I need to - "  
  
"Let me!" cut in Megumi quickly, violently seizing my tray and starting  
off to the dish drop with it. "I need to buy my lunch anyway. Ja!"  
  
I blushed a few times, and I sensed that Michiru was blinking, too.   
I turned to glance at her only to see her staring at me, and we both turned  
bright red. I picked at my cuticle like some sort of little schoolgirl.   
  
There was a long moment of silence, neither of us daring to speak. After  
a long moment, I bit the bullet and shrugged. "So, you wanted to know if I   
believe in Fate?" I questioned archly, my normal cynicism shining through. I   
tried to push the sarcastic tone from my voice, but it seemed to fail me. "I   
believe that things happen for a reason, and I believe that there's nothing we   
can do from stopping them."  
  
Michiru considered my answer silently, chewing thoughtfully on the   
end of her chopstick. Then, she smiled softly and nodded. "That's a well-thought  
answer," she responded softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I like  
that."  
  
The bell rang, signaling the end of my lunch hour. I apologized and   
rose to leave, and she chuckled.  
  
"Seems you're always running away," she smirked, winking a blue eye.  
"I'll have to rectify that, sometime."  
  
Somehow, I thought she knew more than she was telling.  
  
---  
  
I had just finished changing out of my sweatpants when I heard my name  
blearing across the all-school intercom system. "Ten'ou Haruka to the nurse's  
office, please," chirped the ever-friendly voice of one of campus secretaries.  
I recognized her as the woman I had met with to get my identification badge on  
the very first day of school. She was nice but heavy-set, and always very   
friendly.  
  
Groaning, I grabbed my bag and placed it on my shoulder, just like I   
always did. Why in the world would the school nurse want to see me? I was sure I   
had turned in all my medical records already, a necessary (and totally old-school,  
but whatever) background check. I pushed through the doors and started down the  
hallway toward the nurse's office.  
  
After school hours were always my favorite hours of the day. The students  
always cleared out as quickly as they could, going either to their club sessions  
or home to do their assignments, whichever they preferred. Only a few - perhaps  
running late for their club, or coming from a conference with a teacher - wandered  
the halls...which meant I didn't have to cope with the whispered, confused   
questions to who I was or why I looked like a man. I brushed my bangs from my   
face, sighed, and continued walking.  
  
The nurse's office was located just off the main hallway, complete with   
a cute little sign that read "School Nurse" in purple and white letters. Inwardly,  
I wondered what kind of woman this nurse would be. At my first high school, the   
nurse had been a tall, angry-looking woman with red hair down to her waist. I had   
only visited her once, for... For...  
  
Hmm. Yet another blurry spot in my memories. Ah well.  
  
I rapped lightly on the door before starting into the office. "Hello?" I   
called out, glancing around. It was a simple enough room: a desk and chair beside  
a file cabinet, a cot in the corner with pillows and blankets, a counter covered  
all sorts of little canisters with labels like "swabs" and "wash-wipes." A tiny   
bathroom, complete with a toilet, shower, sink, and scale, stood open on the back  
wall. "Is anyone - "  
  
"Ten'ou Haruka?" questioned a voice behind me, and I whirled around to   
come face-to-face with a tall, green-haired woman looming over me. Her red eyes   
looked me up and down, as if giving me the once-over of a lifetime.  
  
Nodding, I felt my skin crawl slightly. Not AGAIN, I groaned to myself,   
resisting the urge to slam my head into a wall as hard as I could. Not ANOTHER   
person who set off this feeling of deja vu.  
  
The nurse smiled brightly as soon as I affirmed my identity and pushed   
pass me, striding into her office. "Sit down, then, Ten'ou-san!" she instructed   
cheerily, gesturing to the cot. "I know it's not much," she admitted, "but it's  
my office, and I make do with all I've got."  
  
"Thank you, Miss..." I frowned and pursed my lips. Why in the world did   
I have such an urge to call the woman Setsuna? I had never met her before, and   
yet...  
  
Yet...  
  
"Meiou Setsuna," she introduced herself, crossing her ankles beneath her   
chair. I nearly fell off the cot. My half-assed guess had been right? What in the   
world was WRONG with me?! After a moment of silence, she sighed. "I just wanted   
to give you the...'heads up,' if you will, about one of your students."  
  
My mind was still too busy reeling at what had just happened for me to   
hear a word she said. Setsuna? Her name was Setsuna? How in the world had I known  
that off the top of my head? Visions of a small country manor in the woods filled  
my mind, of baking pies from scratch and children's books littering the floor...  
What in the world were these things?   
  
Another vision, stronger than the other. A vision of myself, standing on a   
the roof of a strange building in downtown Tokyo. Horror. Fear. An exploding   
helicopter...  
  
A hand reaching for mine...  
  
...and a head of aquamarine ha -   
  
"Ten'ou-san?" questioned the nurse firmly, my daydream shattering as she   
spoke. I blinked and shook my head a bit before glancing at her. She looked   
confused and concerned at the same exact time. "Is everything alright,   
Ten'ou-san?" she asked politely. "Is this a bad time?"  
  
I forced a smile and shook my head. "I'm sorry," I replied, not really   
certain if I was sorry or not. "I just spaced out for a minute, that's all." There   
was a brief moment of silence, and I was almost certain that Setsuna didn't   
believe me. "Now, you wanted to talk to me about a student?"  
  
She nodded curtly and reached back to her desk, taking from it a rather   
large manila folder. "This is the file on Tomoe Hotaru," she informed me in a   
matter-of-fact tone, handing over the folder. "I think you should read it over.  
It may help you understand her better."  
  
So Setsuna was somehow tied to Hotaru, and I had visions of both? Sighing,  
I pushed those thoughts all from my head. It wasn't time to worry about deja vu  
and funny feelings and knowing the nurse's name out of nowhere. I had to deal   
with the here and now, and the here and now was a folder full of medical jargon.  
  
I flipped to the first page, which appeared to be some sort of student   
profile. All the basic information was presented on the form, written in purple   
pen by what appeared to be a young hand. Name, age, height and weight, birth date  
and place, address, phone number, parent's names... I frowned a bit.  
  
"Tomoe Keiko and Tomoe Souichii," I read, glancing up at the nurse   
uncertainly. "Says here her mother died when she was three. Is that what you want  
me to know?"  
  
She shook her head, and gestured to the file. "Keep reading..."  
  
Shrugging, I looked down and continued reading. Allergies...she was   
allergic to milk. Fine. I wasn't planning to serve milk in class, anyway.   
Permanent medications. Handicaps. Blah blah blah.  
  
Arching an eyebrow, I looked to Setsuna. "No offence, Meiou-san," I began,  
closing the folder, "but I don't think this is going to - "  
  
"Keep reading."  
  
I sighed and went back to the page. "Please use the back of this sheet  
and any other sheets to note other ailments, physical difficulties, maladies,  
hospital visits, et cetera," I read in a mumble, rolling my eyes. What in the   
world did this nurse want me to know? And why in the world did -   
  
My eyes must have tripled in size when I moved to turn the page over.   
Stapled to the first profile were at least ten more pages, front-and-back, of   
lined paper, each filled completely...and written in the same purple pen.  
  
Setsuna saw my shock and nodded, crossing her hands on her lap. "We gave  
the students a class period to fill out that sheet," she explained softly, "and  
Hotaru asked - very politely - if she could take it home and double check   
everything with her father. I allowed her to...and she came home with that."  
  
"Is everything accurate?" I asked, flipping idly through the sheets. There  
must have been five hundred dated bullet points in the packet.  
  
"As far as I can tell, yes," responded the woman, moving to brush a strand  
of hunter hair from her face. "I've called every hospital mentioned, and they have  
confirmed. I had her father come in to double-check her world, and he says that,  
if anything, she's probably missing a few dates."  
  
I blinked. "Missing a few?"  
  
"And that's not all," she continued, standing and sitting next to me.  
She turned the packet to the last page, pointing at the final entry. "She was   
miraculously cured of EVERYTHING - things like epilepsy, physical weakness,   
chronic fatigue - about four years ago." She sighed. "It's an odd case, and I'll  
be the very first to admit it. We don't know what's going on."  
  
Turning to look at the school nurse, I raised an eyebrow. "And this is  
supposed to help me understand her...how?"  
  
She chuckled and leaned back against the wall. "Perhaps 'understand' is  
the wrong word," she responded after a moment's thought. "You can't understand  
the impossible, now can you?"  
  
"I suppose you can't," I condescended, not quite certain that I knew what  
she was getting at. "So, then, what?"  
  
"Take home the folder and read it," she told me, rising. "And watch   
Hotaru carefully. I want to know if it's a miracle, or coincidental, or..."  
  
"A lie," I nodded, catching her drift. I used to be like her, I realized  
after a moment. Always in search of the REAL story. Of the gospel truth. Of   
everything and nothing.  
  
I wonder when I stopped being like that. I couldn't remember.  
  
She smiled. "Exactly." There was a pause as I rose and gathered my things,  
and she extended her hand toward me.  
  
I shook it. "It was nice to meet you, Meiou-san," I told her, not complete  
lying.  
  
She smiled. "Nice to meet you, too."  
  
---  
  
Hotaru's file, believe it or not, was probably the most riveting thing I   
had ever read...next, of course, to "Car and Driver." The girl had chronicled   
every hospital visit and general ailment - from the tiniest flu bug to a near-  
fatal laboratory accident - in a neat, concise order. She even asterisked moments  
that she could not remember, noting "from my father's records" wherever those   
times occurred.  
  
I was almost through the ten-page listing when the phone rang. Groaning,  
I dropped the file and rushed to the kitchen, managing to catch it on the last  
ring.  
  
"Moshi moshi," I chimed into the receiver, glancing at the wall clock. It  
was only six. Couldn't be anything too urgent.  
  
"You are WAY too happy for your own good, Haruka," barked the familiar   
voice of my editor on the other end of the line. I suppressed a chuckle. "Got a   
girl over there or something?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "No girl, Okuno," I assured him with a small sigh.   
"Though, if you have any who will take me up on the offer..."  
  
He snorted, and I could visualize the toss of his head that probably   
accompanied it. "The arts editor - you know, Watari Fuki, the babe with the purple  
hair? - just called with her panties in a bundle. Seems that her drama review   
guru just came down with a nasty case of food poisoning and took a week off. She's  
convinced me that you're the best and that I should lend you to her fighting force  
for a few days. And I didn't have the heart to say no."  
  
"You're a sucker for a pretty girl in trouble," I reminded him, digging a  
pad of paper out of a drawer. "So, what do you need?"  
  
There was a pause as he shuffled papers around on his massive (and always  
messy) desk. "Some art troupe is paying for these big name Shakespearean dolts to  
come in from Britain and put on 'The Tempest,'" he told me quickly. I scribbled  
everything down as fast as I could. "You need to go and write the physical review.  
Fuki will fill in the blanks."  
  
I had almost completely copied down my assignment when I realized exactly  
what Okuno had said. "Shakespeare?" I gaped, glowering into the phone. "You KNOW  
that I hate all that old English mumbo-jumbo! Hell, I hardly SPEAK English! There  
is no way that - "  
  
"Oh, wow, look at the time!" Okuno said suddenly, cutting me off in the   
midst of a budding rant. "We go to copy really soon!"  
  
"Bullshit! It's six in the evening! You have four hours until copy!"  
  
"Gotta go! Review's due next Thursday! Later!"  
  
He hung up the phone with a resounding click, and I let out a defeated   
sigh.  
  
Why me?  
  
---  
  
By lunchtime the next day, I was irritable, groggy, and altogether not in   
the mood for human contact. I had stayed up half the night trying to find tickets  
for "The Tempest" - both online and by phone - but it seemed that it was all sold  
out. Okuno had forgotten to warn me that it was a one-show-only deal...and that  
the Art Society of Tokyo hadn't thought to make any tickets available to the   
press. "I'm sorry, Ten'ou-san," one snippy secretary addressed me at a quarter to   
midnight, "but we just DON'T have any tickets left. You'll have to call your editor  
and tell him - "  
  
"Her."  
  
" - that the article is an impossibility."  
  
My first class, which was actually fourth period, seemed offended that I   
was so tired and out of it. Worse than that, I had come to school only to be   
reprimanded severely by the school nurse. "You can't leave my files at your   
house!" she shot at me angrily. "I'm not supposed to lend them out!"  
  
"Then why in the world did you let me take it in the first place?" I spat  
back coolly. I was not in the state of mind for a piddly argument about a   
single file folder.  
  
Setsuna recoiled slightly and sighed. "Because I thought I could trust   
you."  
  
I was in a sour mood as I sat down in the corner-most table of the   
lunchroom, content to huff into my salad silently. Two more classes to go, and   
then I would call Okuno and inform him that he was shit out of luck and that it   
served him right to -   
  
"Have you seen Michiru?" questioned Megumi, seeming to pop out of nowhere  
and plop down next to me.  
  
Resisting the urge to groan, I shook my head and said absolutely nothing.  
The last thing I wanted to do was come face-to-face with Michiru. The mere thought  
of coping with my deja vu flashes made my skin to crawl.  
  
The redhead sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "She's been looking for you  
all morning, but you've been pulling a recluse on us." Arching an eyebrow, she   
glanced dubiously. "Is something wrong? I saw you arguing with Setsuna earlier..."  
  
Does she know EVERYONE in the school by their first name? I thought to   
myself, annoyed. I was in no frame of mind to cope with a "hooray, the world is  
great!" attitude this Friday morning. "I was up late last night on a newspaper  
lead," I informed her, not TOTALLY lying. "Put me in a bad mood for the day, that's  
all."  
  
"Oh," she responded, her face thoughtful and almost childish as she swung  
her legs under the chair. "Well, if I see Michiru, I'll tell her that you're not  
in the mood to talk. Maybe she can call you?"  
  
Yes, because I wanted that SO badly. "If she'd like," I replied, finishing  
up the last few bites of my lunch and standing. "But, if you'll excuse me..."  
  
Megumi nodded. "Feel better."  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
---  
  
With all my classes finished for the weekend, I started outside with just a  
bit more spring in my step than I had retained that morning. Even if Okuno (and   
the arts woman) got angry about the ticket issue, it wasn't my fault. I'd end up  
having a free weekend to myself, a weekend to reflect on what it was to teach   
high school gym. I had time to finish reading the Hotaru file, practice piano,   
bake a cake... Okay, so I wouldn't bake a cake, but I COULD. And that was the   
great part.  
  
I was almost all the way to my car when I heard someone holler my name  
from behind me. The clicking of high heels on pavement echoed in my ears as I   
turned around...and saw Michiru jogging in my direction. I sighed. Why me?  
  
"Ten'ou-san!" she smiled, panting lightly as she stopped next to me, her  
arms full of papers and folders. "I was afraid I wouldn't catch you. Did Megumi   
tell you that I was looking for you earlier?"  
  
"Uhmm... Well..." I couldn't decide what would be worse in the long run:  
lying or telling the truth. I opted for a mixture of both. "She might have   
mentioned something," I admitted in my most innocent tone, "but I really wasn't   
listening. I was sort of wrapped up in my own thoughts."  
  
Michiru chuckled a high, elegant chuckle. "The secret is to not listen   
very closely to Megumi," she told me softly, as though we were sharing a great   
secret. "She is very childish and rash, almost like a girl..."  
  
A mental picture of a blonde girl with goofy pigtails and a bright smile  
flashed within my mind. I blinked it away and focused on the musician in front of  
me. "Did you need something?" I asked, hoping that it would be a simple favor   
and nothing Earth-shattering.  
  
She smiled sadly and nodded. For a moment, she said nothing, as though she  
was trying to find the right words to say something. "I am a member of Tokyo's  
Art Society," she began, shoving her hands in her back pockets as she spoke. "I   
painted when I was younger, before I quit violin and decided to teach, and the   
Society thought I would make an excellent member." She paused and pursed her lips.  
"The Society is sponsoring a play tomorrow night - William Shakespeare's 'The   
Tempest,' if you have perhaps heard of it."  
  
"I've heard of it," I nodded, a feeling of immense dread welling up in   
the pit of my stomach. Here was a woman who was part of the society that was   
putting on the play that I needed to review! Talk about a sense of true irony.  
  
"Anyway..." she continued, scuffing her feet together. For the first time,   
I became aware of something very obvious: Michiru was nervous. She was NERVOUS  
being around me... The thought caused me to fidget a bit. Why in the world would  
a well-known musician be nervous around a less-than-nothing journalist? "I was   
planning to take a friend of mine to the show tomorrow, but her father is very   
ill and she cannot attend. I was wondering, perhaps, if you could accompany me."  
  
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. My mind flooded with visions,   
visions of sitting beside Michiru as a violin concert was presented, visions of  
preparing her to play with the Three Lights, visions of accompanying her at a   
ball. What was this? And why couldn't I escape it?  
  
I nodded dulling, gulping down the lump in my throat. "Sure," I answered  
timidly, finding myself without anything more to say.  
  
She smiled a brilliant, beautiful smile. "Wonderful," she responded, her   
voice alight with appreciation and kindness. "I will come by at six tomorrow   
evening. Ja!"  
  
I watched her stride away, her flowered dress blown by the cool autumn   
wind, and I sighed.  
  
So much for my free weekend.  
  
---  
End Chapter II  
--- 


	4. Thunder and Rain

"The simple things are free..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter III - "Thunder and Rain"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
I awoke at nine a.m. Saturday morning to a virtual symphony of sounds.   
Thunder echoed in the distance, a bass drum to the pitter-pattering snare beats  
that were raindrops against my windowpane. A reedy saxophone was my ringing   
telephone, and the alarm on my coffee maker doubled as a distant trumpet. I groaned  
and rolled over, seriously considering another hour of sleep...but my curiosity  
got the best of me. I groped for the phone and answered it with the same half-  
conscious "mshmshi" of almost a week previous.  
  
"Morning to you too, Sunshine," barked Okuno in a gruff voice, and I could  
surmise from his tone that it had been a late night at the "Daily." "I just got  
off the phone with the arts editor, and she's panicked. Says tickets for the   
show are sold out. Did you get one, or no?"  
  
For a moment, I just laid there, staring at the ceiling and listening to   
the rain. I had almost completely forgotten about my impending date with the   
teal-haired orchestra beauty and my coming review of "The Tempest." But Okuno had  
brought me spiraling back to a reality I wanted nothing to do with... I wished I   
could go back to bed.  
  
He was obviously in an impatient mood, because he harrumphed loudly into  
the phone. "Well?" he prompted.  
  
I sighed. "I got a ticket," I told him blandly, beginning to sit up in   
bed. Lightning flashed outside, filling the city with a shot of brilliant light.  
"Some day for a play, isn't it?" I kidded, knowing he would be in no mood to talk  
about something as unimportant as the weather.  
  
"How'd you get one?" he quizzed me, completely uninterested in my   
tangent. He sounded absolutely confounded at my ability to get a   
seat. "Fuki said - "  
  
"You call her by her first name?"  
  
" - that no one but society members could get in." I could tell that he  
was just not going to play games with me. "Did you seduce some ticket taker or  
something?"  
  
I smirked. Why not play the devil's advocate for a bit? "Naw... Just a   
society member."  
  
For a moment, there was silence, and I briefly entertained the thought that  
he had fainted in shock. "You WHAT?" he finally said, breaking the silence.  
  
As much fun as it was to play with his mind, I had to tell him the   
truth. So I did, explaining my meeting Michiru in as much detail as I could...  
including a bit about the frequent deja vu flashes.  
  
"It's your funeral if you play around with the violinist," he responded  
to my story once he had digested it all. "I don't think it's the greatest idea I've  
ever heard, but I'm not really the one to talk." He chuckled. "Hell, you have   
better luck with girls than I do, and you ARE one."  
  
I blinked. "Okuno, I think you misunderstood," I chimed in, realizing   
the exact weight of his words. "I'm not dating her, just - "  
  
"You can't pretend with me," he scolded, and I was sure he would be wagging  
a finger at me if I were in front of him and not on the other end of a phone. "I   
know you, and I know how you work. This woman will end up being Ten'ou Haruka's  
newest plaything, just wait and see."  
  
"But she KNOWS," I protested, standing up and stretching. The rain picked  
up, slamming against my windowpane in a bitter crescendo. I sighed. "She knows  
I'm a woman, too, and I doubt that she would have any real interest. I'm her   
second choice for this gig, anyway, and she made certain I knew it. This is NOT  
the grandiose seduction of Kaioh Michiru that you're making it out to be."  
  
There was a pause and I could hear someone talking in the background.   
A muffled "Okay, in a minute" later, Okuno came back onto the phone. "I have to  
go. We're having a meeting about what to run front page today."  
  
I rolled my eyes. Generally, Okuno skipped the first meeting over front  
page to actually find out what he COULD have going front. He was just looking for  
an excuse to get off the phone, which meant he was probably mad. "That's fine,"  
I responded with a small nod. "I'll bring in my article sometime next week."  
  
"Glad to hear it. Later."  
  
I hung up the phone with a sigh and leaned the side of my face against the  
window. It was just like Okuno to over-do the fatherly impulses to a point of   
taking offence another everything else. You should be used to it, I scolded myself,  
instead of being worried by it. It's just what he DOES. He smells a rat somewhere  
between you and Michiru and thinks its a good idea to stay away.  
  
"What IS it about her, anyway?" I questioned to the air as I strode   
across my room. Hotaru's medical file, which I had left sitting on my dresser,   
caught the corner of my eye, and I picked it up. The profile included a small   
picture that appeared as though it had been cut out of a larger one. Hotaru was  
kneeling in a field of pink wild flowers, her nose buried in a blossom. She looked  
so...peaceful.  
  
I flipped the photo over. "Hotaru at the botanical gardens, seventh   
grade," it read in a messy black scrawl. Her father's handwriting, no doubt. I   
put the picture back, paper-clipped to the file, and sighed.  
  
What was it about all three of them? Michiru, Setsuna, Hotaru... All   
three left me both shivering and yet warm, as though I suddenly belonged to   
something more substantial than all the pointless things I had done in my life.  
Like I needed them...  
  
I wondered if that was what Michiru had meant when she asked me about   
Fate.  
  
"Might as well start the day with some light reading," I shrugged. Then,  
I closed the folder and started into the living room.  
  
---  
  
How does one dress for a play that is sponsored by the Art Society of   
Tokyo? Are you to wear a suit and tie? Are you to wear a skirt? Can you wear   
either? Or are females supposed to LOOK like females?  
  
Standing in a bathrobe, my hair dripping upon my shoulders, I stared  
blankly into my open closet. Until then - that is, until 4:53 p.m. - the thought  
hadn't occurred to me that I might need to dress like a female for "The Tempest."  
I was used to wearing tuxedos, suits, dress shirts with khakis... Anything that  
was typically a "male" outfit was the base for my perfect dress-up occasion.   
  
But that base was generally only in use when I went out and spent time as  
Ten'ou Haruka - Renaissance Man. Unfortunately for me, Michiru was completely and  
totally cognizant of the fact that I was really a female. That didn't bother me.  
What bothered me was that I didn't know if she had told anyone I was a girl! If   
I wore a skirt and she hadn't told anyone anything, it would be okay. But if I   
came to the theater dressed in typical female garb and it turned out that she had  
played her cards on the side of society and said I was male, then I would be sunk.  
  
I decided on a conservative black suit with a gold button-down dress shirt  
and left the top button unbuttoned. Best to go for suave, androgynous member of   
society than to try to overdo either gender.  
  
I blow-dried my hair and raked a comb through it a few times, making sure  
it looked just perfect. A single hoop earring in my left ear completed the   
ensemble, and - while I failed to look like a million bucks - I looked to be   
deserving of an evening at "The Tempest."  
  
5:43. I was a master at cutting it close. Giving myself one last once-over,  
I tucked my wallet into my coat pocket and walked out to the foyer of my apartment,  
ready to play the waiting game.  
  
How long had it been since I had been on anything even remotely similar to  
a date? Maybe I blocked out the experience, I thought with a chuckle. I couldn't  
remember for the life of me. There were plenty of attractive female fish in the   
sea, but none of them really struck my fancy enough to make me want to pursue a   
serious relationship. Take Watari Fuki, for example. Okuno has been head-over-heels  
for her since the beginning of time - they were local beat members together before  
Fuki, three years his senior, got promoted to editor. He followed her lead about  
six months later, taking the local seat. She had been mad for weeks that he stole  
her limelight as the youngest "Daily" editor.  
  
Fuki was attractive enough, and I had teased Okuno about her mercilessly.  
She was short, spry, and very friendly, with a cute little bob of purple hair and  
sparkling blue eyes. As much as my editor tried to pretend he didn't want a thing  
to do with her, we all knew that he was in love with the other editor, which made  
it all the funnier. Personally, I hardly knew her, but... She was nice to look at.  
  
But I wouldn't go out on a limb and let my heart break for her. No sirree.  
The same went with so many women... Even Megumi was a nice enough girl physically,  
but I think I would hang myself if I had to spend more than an hour a day listening  
to her babble.  
  
As for Michiru... Michiru...  
  
The vision of walking through a park at midnight came to me, and I could  
hear an enchanting violin melody fill my ears. I turned around, toward the music's  
source...  
  
My doorbell rang, and I leapt almost three feet into the air. I rushed to  
the door and threw it open to see a short, balding man standing in front of me.  
  
I frowned. "May I...help you?" I questioned, very confused.  
  
"Ten'ou Haruka?" he replied with a smile. I nodded, and his grin   
intensified. "Good! Michiru-sama has sent me to fetch you. She's running a bit   
late with getting ready, so you are to come with me and wait in her penthouse."  
  
Penthouse? I began to see little dollar and cent signs in the corners of   
my vision. "Alright," I responded after a long moment of silent, a bit   
flabbergasted. I had never heard her play, but I was guessing she was good. VERY  
good, by the sounds of her apartment. Then, I glanced at him. "And you are...?"  
  
He pulled a little cap from his back pocket and placed it over his bald  
spot. "Her chauffeur, sir," he addressed me, gesturing toward the hall. "I left  
the limousine running downstairs."  
  
If life were an animated series, I would have facevaulted right there.  
  
---  
  
If the cash signs had only been in my peripheral vision when I was first   
told Michiru owned a penthouse, they were blinding me as I walked into her   
apartment. No, "apartment" wasn't even the right word; it was house in a high-rise.  
The door opened into an enormous living room, furnished with plush couches,   
antique mahogany end and coffee tables, and complete with a harp, harpsichord, and  
grand piano. A small hallway lead on the right to what appeared to be a kitchen   
and a dining room, with another, symmetrical hall on the other side of the apartment  
leading to the bedroom (or bedrooms?) and bath.  
  
At least, I assumed that bedrooms were to the left, because that's where  
the violin-playing conductor emerged, wearing a bathrobe around her lithe form.  
Her hair was perfectly styled in a French twist, so much so that she looked more  
like a supermodel than an artist going to a play.  
  
"Haruka-kun! So glad to see you!" she fussed, rushing up to me and kissing  
me on both cheeks. I blinked, a bit confused by the sudden show of familiarity.  
"I hope that Harigi drove carefully in the rain, yes?"  
  
The balding man blushed slightly. "Madame, I am an excellent driver," he  
protested in such a way that I couldn't tell if either was kidding.  
  
She nodded and chuckled as though she was some sort of high-society woman,  
a role I wasn't used to seeing her play. "And an excellent driver would be sitting  
in the car, keeping it warm for his employer," she returned with a wink. Harigi   
obviously got the message, because he bustled out of the room like nobody's   
business.  
  
As soon as the door closed, Michiru sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry  
about that, Ten'ou-san," she apologized, smoothing my jacket where her little   
hug-and-kiss routine had bunched it. "I'm expected to play the role of snot-nosed  
maven from time-to-time, and, well..." She flushed and glanced toward the huge  
picture windows that lined the farthest side of the apartment. The rain was still  
pouring upon Tokyo. "I hate it," she admitted softly, her expression full of   
silent pain. "I absolutely hate it."  
  
I wasn't sure what to say. I was standing three inches away from a   
gorgeous woman, and yet I hadn't even breached the social protocol to address her  
by her first name. "Well, if you hate high society so much," I responded, stepping  
away from her and treading lightly across her velvety carpeting, "you can go  
ahead and call me Haruka-chan." I paused and glanced back at her. "If you'd like,  
of course."  
  
She chuckled sweetly. I loved the way she laughed; so high and elegant,  
like you would imagine a princess doing. "I can't imagine calling you anything  
that ended in 'chan,' Haruka," she responded, her lips delicately forming each of  
the three syllables in my name. So precise and crisp... I thought I would melt,  
such music it was. "So, I think I will just call you 'Haruka.' That way, I won't  
make a blunder and give away your gender to the masses, ne?" She winked, and   
smirked. Already, a shared secret.  
  
"But enough talking!" she exclaimed, as though she didn't have a clue   
what time it was or where she was. "I have to get ready. You wouldn't want to be   
late for a Shakespearean comedy, now would you?"  
  
"Not at all," I lied, forcing a smile. I continued to smile, even at her  
back, until she had gone and closed herself in her bedroom.  
  
Then, I let out the breath I had been holding. The things we do...for work.  
  
---  
  
I didn't know what time it was when Michiru came out of her bedroom.   
Frankly, I didn't know how long she had been standing behind me before she told  
me she was present, ready to go. I was too busy playing piano to notice.  
  
That's one personal habit I have, and one I need to break sometime soon.   
I flock to pianos. Put me in a room with a piano, and I will play it. I will   
sit down at it and I will bury myself in it, and I will enjoy every second of it.  
My years of lessons taught me how to play a lot of music by rote, and my mind -  
though lacking in general memories - was able to recall musical pieces for years  
after I had finished learning them. I love to play, to sit down on a bench and   
immerse myself in music.  
  
And that's exactly what I did in Michiru's penthouse. The lure of a grand  
piano, well tuned and just gorgeous, was too tempting for me to ignore. The sound  
echoed off the ceilings and walls, off the chandelier and picture window, creating  
a perfect acoustic chamber.   
  
My selection of the hour was actually an extremely long version of   
Pachelbel's Canon that I had learned during my high school years. I had switched   
teachers about the same time I switched high schools, and her first piece to test  
me on had been a seven-page arrangement of the famous canon. It took me two weeks  
to perfect.   
  
Fingers trailed across delicate, polished keys. Feet pressed and released  
shining brass pedals. Notes rang in the air, harmonizing and echoing before dying  
away into nothing.  
  
I finished the piece to light clapping, something I had not expected. I   
hopped out of my seat to come face-to-face with Michiru. Wearing a simple and yet  
elegant black dress, she appeared to be more of a goddess than a woman. I blushed  
and turned away from her, thankful that I could claim the embarrassment was from   
my playing, not my sudden, child-like infatuation.  
  
"I didn't know you could play," she smiled, her blue eyes sparkling like  
diamonds in the night. "You're very good."  
  
"Thank you," I smiled, looking up from the carpeting to meet her gaze.   
The only thing I could activity think of was how beautiful she was. How very,  
very beautiful... "I've been playing since I was in the first grade," I finally  
said after an awkward pause. "It's...always been a passion for me."  
  
She smiled gently and nodded in understanding. "The violin was that for   
me...until I quit," she responded, her voice light. "You should come sit in on  
one of my classes sometime. I could use another adult in the room."   
  
I smirked. "Only if you promise to come into one of my gym classes   
sometime," I retorted with a smug toss of my sandy hair.  
  
"Deal," she responded, and I could not tell if she was kidding or not.  
  
---  
  
There is nothing I can say about "The Tempest" that doesn't make it sound  
like it's the worst play ever. It is NOT the worst play ever, but I will admit  
that I hate it. I hate the English language even more, though, so I had to sit in  
my seat and pretend I knew what was going on for the whole first half of the   
presentation.   
  
Intermission came, and I found myself wandering around the lobby of the  
theater, bored out of my mind while I waited for Michiru to touch up. Society  
functions and being part of the upper class were not things I enjoyed. In fact,   
if I had my way, they would be wiped from the face of the Earth. So I paced as   
I waited, and every time I saw someone who looked even the least bit interested  
in me I would walk a few steps away, making it blatantly clear that I didn't want  
to talk.  
  
"Haruka," breathed a soft, elegant voice, and I turned around to see   
Michiru, as riveting as ever, standing behind me. Her pink lips pursed into a   
polite little smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I was cornered by the society  
president between the sink and the towel dispenser, and she kept asking me if I   
would take her position next year, when she retired."  
  
I laughed aloud. I could see that: a young, beautiful woman cornered by   
another, older, wrinkled woman, preferably one with a belly the size of Asia.   
"And are you going to take her place?" I asked with a flirtatious wink. "Or will  
you be content to serve the masses as a plain old Society member?"  
  
She chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "You are incorrigible, H - "  
  
"Michiru-san with a male! Oh, the humanity!" cried a young man in a full  
tuxedo, tails and everything, emerging from the crowd. His dark eyes glittered  
as he gave my "date" for the evening a ravenous once-over. "Is this the young man  
who has won your heart?"  
  
Smoothing her skirt, Michiru smiled charmingly at the young man, though I   
was fairly certain she didn't want to be within ten feet of him. "This, Tsubaki,  
is my dear friend Ten'ou Haruka." She leaned heavily against my right side, and I -  
not know what else to do - wrapped my arm loosely around her slender waist.  
"You may recognize the name."  
  
He blinked a few times, as though he knew that he SHOULD know me, and then  
realization dawned and his eyes blossomed. "Ten'ou Haruka of the 'Tokyo Daily?'"  
he gaped, as though he couldn't possibly believe a bishounen - or was it   
bishojou? - like me could be a well-known reporter. Amazed, he leaned forward and  
seized my hand, shaking it a few hundred times. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir!"  
he gushed, grinning like a schoolchild meeting his childhood idol. "You're a wealth  
of talent!"  
  
Michiru smiled. "Tsubaki-san is one of the top violinists in the nation,"  
she explained sweetly in her normal, airy manner. "He often thanks me for quitting  
the instrument and allowing him the position of concertmaster in the Tokyo Symphony  
Orchestra."  
  
"Your girlfriend is a talented woman, Ten'ou-san," the other musician   
told me confidentially. I flinched at his choice of words. Girlfriend? No, I did not  
deserve a woman as sweet and refined as Michiru. And even if I deserved one, I   
would never be able to keep her.   
  
I moved to protest, to tell the man that I was more a co-worker than a   
romantic interest, but Tsubaki was called away by another man at that moment. He  
uttered a hasty goodbye and, much to my horror, left us, still with the mistaken   
impression that I was dating my colleague.   
  
Sighing, I released Michiru's waist. My arm felt cold, empty, without her  
warmth against it. My mind filled with thoughts of a younger, more reserved   
Michiru, a Michiru with the world on her shoulders. A haunting violin melody echoed  
in my otherwise silent mind, taunting me with its bittersweet song.  
  
"You're bored, aren't you?" questioned Michiru suddenly, cutting off my   
thoughts. I glanced down at my companion to see her blue eyes sparkling up at me,  
her face placid but concerned. I pursed my lips, saying nothing, but it stood alone  
as an answer to her question. She nodded to herself and adjusted her tiny purse  
on her shoulder, as if making a decision right there. "Fine, then. Let's leave."  
  
Arching my eyebrows dubiously, I turned to look at her. "Are you certain you  
want to?" I asked in response, hoping that her statement wasn't too good to be   
true.  
  
"Why not? I've mingled with the high society mavens; it's time for me to be  
the schoolmarm again." She winked, as if we were sharing a private joke. "Besides,  
the rain's let up, and I could use a moonlit walk through Tokyo." Looping her arm  
in mine, she smiled. "What do you say?"  
  
I smiled right back at her. "Sounds good to me."  
  
---  
  
We walked quietly through the park that night, though I will be the first  
to admit that it wasn't the romantic moonlit ordeal she had suggested it to be.   
Excepting the brick path, the ground was all mud and dead leaves, and the gingko   
seeds that had fallen and split open on the sidewalk stunk something terrible.   
Still, it was there we walked, Michiru's high heels slung over her shoulder as we  
wandered in silence.  
  
It hadn't started out as silence. We had talked briefly about our careers,  
about what had inspired us to become teachers. Michiru had been inspired by her   
first collegiate violin teacher, and openly admitted that - while she really had  
gone into the profession for all the RIGHT reasons - she often wished that she made  
more money along her career track. I explained my rationale for becoming a   
substitute, a story she chuckled sweetly at and labeled as "typically Haruka."  
  
I didn't understand what she meant by that... After all, she didn't really  
know me well enough to pass that judgement...  
  
...or did she?  
  
My mind, once again, filled with vague and yet very real memories as we   
walked through that park. I could almost remember chatting with a raven-haired girl  
just outside of it before driving her home on my motorcycle. Thoughts of a brunette  
with an obscenely high ponytail flashed into my head as we passed an intersection.  
The playground brought the picture of a pink-haired child; the small bandstand   
reminded me of a blonde with a bow singing loudly; a park bench brought thoughts of  
a dark-haired child who looked strikingly like Hotaru. And in the midst of all these  
pictures was that same, haunting violin melody and the vision of a shadowed woman,  
playing her instrument in the shade of a tree.  
  
A clap of thunder shattered the silence of the evening, and I glanced up   
at the cloudy sky just in time to witness a cloudburst. Enormous, cold raindrops  
began to pour down on us, immediately soaking my short hair and the shoulders of   
my coat.   
  
I prepared myself to start jogging for shelter - after all, who would want  
to walk in so much rain? - when I heard Michiru begin to chuckle. I turned to look  
at her, and I could feel my brow furrow in her direction. There she stood, in the   
center of the brick walk, with her arms raised to the sky and her mouth wide open,  
catching drops of moisture in her pink mouth.  
  
For a moment, I was absolutely speechless. "You... Your dress..." I   
stammered, pointing to the quickly dampening material. It clung to her curved body  
like a second skin, illuminating every rise and fall of her form perfectly. My   
breath left my body for a moment, and I could feel my heart start to race.   
  
She was the most gorgeous woman on the face of the Earth.  
  
"I like the rain," she told me, lowering her head so that she could meet   
my eyes. Rain clung to her hair and face, her makeup running down her cheeks. "Don't  
you?"  
  
Looking at her like that, her elegant garb soaked, makeup dribbling down  
her skin and her hairdo ruined, I had to smile. "'Oh brave, new world that has   
such people in it,'" I quoted from the play, smirking triumphantly.  
  
She laughed.   
  
Yes. She really was the most gorgeous woman on the face of the planet.  
  
---  
  
I sat before the blinking cursor of my word processing software, my hair   
dripping onto a fresh, dry T-shirt. The computer clock read 12:31 a.m., Sunday   
morning, and yet I was filled with energy and spirit. It was as though I had just  
woken up from a long nap.  
  
Smiling, I placed my hands on the keys and began to type my article for  
the "Tokyo Daily."  
  
---  
End Chapter III.  
--- 


	5. My Name

"The simple things just are..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter IV - "My Name"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
I don't know if it was luck, a curse, or a combination of both, but a phone  
call woke me up early Sunday morning, tugging me from a VERY pleasant dream of   
my previous night's happenings. In my dream world, I had seized Michiru in a   
passionate kiss while the rain still poured down around us, my warmth and hers   
combining to push away the cold dampness around us.  
  
Instead, we had finished our walk and each hailed a taxi to return home.  
  
Yawning, I sat up in bed and reached blindly for the receiver. I figured  
that it was Okuno, complementing me on what was an award-winning review of "The  
Tempest," a review so great that he would run it on what was the first page of the   
arts section, complete with all the bells and whistles. I smirked and picked up the   
phone.  
  
"If you're running it first page, Okuno, I expect the byline to be twice  
the size of everyone else's. I'm a star, you know."  
  
There was silence, and then a fuzzy sniffle from the other end of the phone.  
"Haruka?"   
  
The voice was Megumi's, and I was immediately confused upon hearing it.   
But then I heard another sniffle and figured that it had to be at least a BIT  
important if she was going to be crying about one thing or another; I had never  
seen her even remotely saddened. "Is something wrong, Megumi-san?" I asked of her  
gently, crossing my legs under my covers as I spoke. I figured that it was going  
to be a long conversation.  
  
Another sniffle. "It's awful!" she lamented into the phone, her voice almost  
loud enough that I had to remove the speaker from my ear. "My father's had a heart  
attack, and it doesn't look like he'll make it through the week! He's having   
surgery tomorrow, but I have to teach and Michiru-san can only take my afternoon  
classes and I have no one to substitute for me so can you step in and teach my   
two periods of Japanese, please?!"  
  
I blinked. Once, twice, three times. As a high school and collegiate   
scholar, I had taken courses in Latin, French, German, Mandarin, and Italian. My   
work had caused me to pick up a few English words here-and-there, and I had spent  
three weeks in Spain for a conference the year before and managed to learn just   
enough Spanish to survive. But Megumi-speak was a totally different kind of foreign  
language, and I was certain that they didn't teach it in high school OR college.  
  
Upon request, she slowed down and repeated herself, placing logical pauses  
at commas and all those other things you're supposed to learn in grammar school.  
  
Once she had finished, however, I did not know WHAT to say to her. "Me?   
Teach Japanese?" I gaped, my eyes the size of saucers as I waited for confirmation.  
She gave a little "mmm-hmm" and I gulped. "Megumi, I was probably the worst Japanese  
student on the face of the Earth when I was younger! You do NOT want me teaching  
young, impressionable first-year students how to speak the language! It's like   
trying to have the deaf person instruct music."  
  
She whimpered, and I prayed that the waterworks were somewhere in the   
"dried-up" category. "Michiru can step in when she's not busy teaching her two   
orchestras. That covers my English classes, but nothing more." I could hear her   
shuffle papers; she was probably looking over her lesson plan. "I have them studying  
name origin and meaning, which I'm sure you can do. Yours means 'distant,' you   
know."  
  
Uhmm... Duh? I told her I knew what it meant and let her continue.  
  
"I promise you that it won't be too bad. You take first and third period,  
take second off, Michiru covers the rest of the day. It won't bother ANYONE, I   
promise." Megumi sniffled pathetically, and I could hear her voice waver. "PLEASE,"  
she pleaded with me, hopeless as ever. "I don't know what I'll do if you don't  
help!"  
  
I sighed. And two days earlier, I had called Okuno the sucker...   
  
"Sure," I condescended. "That'll be...fine."  
  
She squealed in girlish delight, thanked me a million times, and hung up  
the phone.  
  
Another sigh escaped my lips. What a way to start a peaceful Sunday!  
  
---  
  
The day was filled with plotting and planning for the next morning's class  
schedule. I poured over my Japanese textbooks from high school and my few college  
courses, desperately trying to jump-start my practical skills. Even though I was   
a member of Tokyo's elite journalist troupe, I was lousy at basic grammar, and   
my etymology - that is, the study of word history and use - grades had been in   
the pit of despair through out my schooling. I was openly useless when it came to   
my native tongue.  
  
Okuno called around noon, full of praise for my latest journalist endeavor.  
I told him the story of Michiru and the rain, of how I didn't actually SEE the end  
of the play but read the online cliff notes, and I could practically hear him frown.  
"Any idea yet why she quit her instrument?"  
  
I told him as much as I knew, but he was still skeptical, saying that she   
sounded more like a stalker than a reasonable romantic interest. Again, I stressed  
the fact that I really wasn't interested, but my own voice deceived the sentiment.  
I WASN'T disinterested. I was, in fact, VERY interested.  
  
Then, I related Megumi's crisis and my new substituting gig, and he laughed  
raucously, as though I had told him the joke of the century. "That poor woman!" he  
guffawed, his voice rumbling in his massive chest. "When she comes back and her   
children don't know the difference between 'elephant' and 'alphabet,' she'll be   
sorry!" I sneered at him over the phone and called him a string of unpleasant names,  
which - predictably - just gave him a reason to laugh more. "Come on, Haruka, where's  
your sense of humor? Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or   
something?"  
  
We hung up the phone and I began to pour over my text books again, but my   
mind was not focused. All I could think about was Michiru, her gorgeous blue eyes  
and sweet, innocent face, her award-winning smile and sparkling personality. It was  
hard to focus on the important things - things like lesson plans, the Japanese   
language, and how to deal with a mixed-gender class when I had never taught one   
before. Gym was easy; you tell them to run around a track or play badminton and they  
do it, you watching the whole time and blowing the whistle occasionally. Easy.  
  
I didn't know what to expect with a Japanese class. I had never taught a   
language before. For all I knew, teaching Japanese would be like teaching a foreign  
language, especially since Japanese is one of those languages that you never really   
learn to master.  
  
Like English, I thought with a sigh. I wonder how Michiru will cope...  
  
Michiru. I pictured her, soaked to the bone and standing in the rain, the   
drops pouring down around her body as she lifted her arms to the sky. What a   
beautiful mental image that was! Her curves, chiseled from alabaster marble, her   
bright blue eyes staring at me...  
  
An image I had never seen before flashed into my mind, and it was Michiru.  
She was sitting across from me in my apartment's window seat, wearing a still damp  
swimsuit. She reached forward and took my hand, holding it in hers, caressing the   
skin gently. "Haruka," she whispered, "I like your hands."  
  
And then, the memory faded as quickly as it had come.   
  
I frowned. What in the world had that been?  
  
Sighing, I pushed it from my mind and returned to the lesson plan I was   
making.  
  
---  
  
I smoothed my dress shirt and give myself a quick once-over in the rearview  
mirror of my car when I got to Giakiin that morning. I had decided to wear something  
plan and simple - a dress shirt and khakis - that wouldn't totally hide my gender  
from people. The curve of my breast was subtle, but there, and my hips gave no room  
for imagination. I was a female, plain and simple, and my garb made that fact   
painfully clear.  
  
The autumn wind rushed against my back as I crossed the parking lot and   
started towards the front office. The day would be simple enough; I would return  
Hotaru's file to the nurse, teach Megumi's two classes, instruct a period of gym,  
eat lunch, and then go back to physical education for the rest of the day. Simple  
enough, ne?  
  
Simplicity was thrown to the wind when Michiru - her hair back in a ponytail,  
her garb a simple sweater with a tight black skirt - rushed up to me.   
  
"Did Megumi get in touch with you?" she questioned, obviously worried. I   
nodded slightly, adjusting all the books and papers I carried, and she exhaled   
heavily. "I was afraid she wouldn't be able to get through. I tried to call you in  
the early afternoon, and the phone was busy."  
  
I flushed a bit and apologized. "My editor wanted to thank me for my review  
of 'The Tempest,'" I told her confidentially as we started to walk into the building  
together. Her arm brushed against mine as we walked, an exhilarating feeling.   
  
She laughed a bit at my comment. "Did you tell him how little of the play  
you saw?" she inquired, as though she was conducting a small part of the Spanish  
Inquisition.  
  
"I did."  
  
"And?"  
  
I shrugged my shoulders and smirked haughtily. "When you are the great Ten'ou  
Haruka, editors bow down to you! They are too impressed with your journalistic   
skills to even question your methods!" We both laughed at that, and I sighed   
happily. "Seriously, he didn't care," I informed her nonchalantly. "I was a last-  
ditch effort, so that means it was a panicked request. The arts woman had all but   
given up her space for the article."  
  
There was silence for a moment as she turned to glance confusedly at me.  
"Say that again," she requested softly, her pink lips pursed carefully.  
  
"Uhmm... Alright." I paused and thought about my words. Was there anything  
I had said that would be inappropriate? I didn't think so... "'Seriously, he didn't  
care,'" I quoted slowly, listening to every syllable as I spoke. "'I was a last-  
ditch effort, so that means it was a panicked request. The arts wo - '"  
  
I flinched.   
  
Michiru nodded slightly. "I thought that's what you said," she breathed,   
as though she was hurt by the comment.  
  
I began to back-peddle like I had never peddled before. "I'm sorry, Michiru!"  
I exclaimed, feeling guilty. I hadn't thought that, when I was playing the part of a  
woman, it might be offensive to play the gender bias key. "You know that I generally  
put on a front and pretend to be male! I just..." I sighed and shook my head. "I   
don't realize when I'm doing it, anymore."  
  
She stopped walking, and I stopped too. We stood, face-to-face, in the middle  
of the campus courtyard, the wind rushing around us and the leaves falling slowly  
to the ground. Her blue eyes stared at me, pushed into my innermost thoughts, my   
innermost soul.   
  
"Haruka," she finally whispered, breaking the silence that laid between us,  
"you don't need to pretend, here." She reached up and laid a hand on my upper arm.  
Her touch was warm, gentle...soothing. At that instant, I felt as though I could   
stand there, with her, forever. "You can be the real Ten'ou Haruka, here."  
  
I smiled and nodded gently. When I had thought about being the real me, it  
had been a strange, foreign thought.  
  
Somehow, when Michiru said it, it felt like everything would be alright.  
  
---  
  
I found that standing in front of a strange class of first-year high school  
students as a substitute teacher for the Japanese language to be the most terrifying  
thing I had ever done. I, Ten'ou Haruka - the woman who had gone to the Japanese   
track nationals at age thirteen, the woman who single-handedly made motocross a   
co-ed sport, the woman who rose to the top of the journalistic society of Tokyo  
without any real training - was intimidated by a group of pimple-faced high school  
kids! Oh, the irony.  
  
Introducing myself, I explained both Megumi's absence and my sudden   
appearance as a sub, recognizing a few of the girls in the class from physical   
education. Once I finished my short little back-story, I passed out a sheet to all  
of them.  
  
"Your assignment is simple," I told them matter-of-factly, sitting on the   
edge of Megumi's extremely disorganized desk. "You have to research the origin and  
meaning of your name and write a short essay, explaining why your parents gave you   
that name. Any questions?"  
  
A timid-looking girl in the back row raised her hand, and I called on her.  
"Could you perhaps give us an example, Ten'ou-sensei?" she asked softly, so quiet  
that I could hardly hear her.  
  
I shrugged. "Okay," I responded, not knowing what else to say. I couldn't  
turn her down, could I? "I can tell you about my name, if you'd like."  
  
Silence, which was a good enough affirmative for me. After all, what would  
they do if they didn't want me to explain? Run screaming?  
  
"My first name, which is Haruka, means 'distant' or 'far away,'" I   
translated, remembering Megumi's quick explanation of my name the day before. "My   
last name, Ten'ou, means 'ruler of sky.' So, I'm the distant sky ruler, if you'd  
like to think of it that way."  
  
I paused. What could I say about my parents that was kind? Not much, so I   
decided to go with the blatant truth. "I never really talked to either of my parents  
about much," I admitted a bit bashfully, amazed that I had the gumption to explain  
my relationship with my mother and father to a bunch of high schoolers. "My father  
worked for the embassy and traveled a lot, and my mother had the duty of raising  
me and a very sickly younger sister, Kiboko. I lived with them until I was thirteen,  
at which time I began competing so heavily in motocross and track that I had a   
perfectly valid excuse to stop living at home.  
  
"My mother once said that it did well to name me Haruka, because I never said  
a word to her. We were fighting at the time, and the issue was - as always - that   
I didn't communicate well. My response was 'Well, what the Hell kind of name is   
Haruka, anyway?!'  
  
"She responded that it had been the first name of my father's favorite   
college professor, and no, she didn't know why she let him name me. She wanted to   
name me Ayumi."  
  
The students were silent, staring everywhere but at me as I finished my   
story. I frowned, my nose wrinkling involuntarily. I hadn't meant to be so intimate  
with so many students. It wasn't in my nature, and I knew that. They probably did  
too; at least, I guess they did from the way they stared, wide-eyed at me.  
  
I coughed into my fist and leaned back a bit on the desk. "Is that a good  
enough example?" I questioned the girl who had requested help.   
  
She nodded and buried herself in her work, and the others all followed suit.  
  
I sighed. Teaching Japanese was definitely not my thing.  
  
---  
  
Megumi's schedule was set so that her second period was for planning,   
grading, and all that other traditional teacher stuff that I was completely   
unconcerned about. I was totally prepared to mope around the classroom for a period  
and then go back to teaching about names and name meanings until I overheard two  
girls talking at the end of the period.  
  
"Kaioh-sensei is having me solo today on the cello! It's next period, and   
I know I'm not ready! She's going to kill me."  
  
"Is she a strict teacher?"  
  
"Not really. I've heard that she can be tough if you don't try...but I   
really haven't run into trouble with her."  
  
"That's neat. Orchestra sounds like a lot of fun."  
  
"It really is."  
  
Their conversation trailed off, but the damage had already been done. My  
mind had already registered that Michiru taught a second-period orchestra class and  
that she had offered for me to sit in on her class sometime.  
  
Well, why the Hell not? I went to sit in on the orchestra.  
  
Walking into the orchestral music room was like walking into a whole new   
universe. I had never played in a full group of musicians before, even when I was   
a student myself. Seeing so many students armed with stringed instruments, then,   
constituted as premiere culture shock. It was going from a world of sweat and baseball  
bats to a world where grace and tone were important, even valuable.  
  
I took a seat in the back of the room, on the top-most riser. A few of the   
teens, mostly girls, turned to glance dubiously at me. I recognized about four of  
them from my gym classes, and another two or so from Megumi's first-hour class.  
Michiru's second period group was made up entirely of first-years, and thus, the   
familiar faces failed to surprised me. It was par for the proverbial course.  
  
The bell rang, signaling the period's start. Violins whined, violas sighed,  
cellos scratched and basses bellowed as the group warmed up. One or two of the   
upper-most players were impressive on a whole, their instruments tuned to the utmost  
perfection as they pulled their bows across the strings. Others... Well, others   
were just not as good, and I will leave it at that.  
  
Michiru strode in, the paragon of feminine beauty and perfection, the  
reddish-brown wood of her violin resting languidly on her alabaster arm as she   
carried it into the room. Her eyes glanced in my direction, meeting my own gaze,  
and she smiled softly. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen such a gentle,  
loving smile, and it warmed my heart. I wished I could hold that moment forever...  
  
But it passed, and she turned to her students. "Today, we're going to start  
working on the Beethoven piece I passed out at the beginning of the year." A few   
of the teens groaned, and the beauty before me rolled her blue eyes. "Spare me your   
trite drama," she scolded parentally, wagging her bow at them. "It's not as hard   
as it looks, and I assure you that you are talented enough to handle it." She raised  
her instrument to her chin, and - as she did - all grace and dignity swept over her.  
It was as though she had been born to play the violin. "Now, if you'd care to listen,  
the beginning goes something like this..."  
  
A melody, haunting, enchanting, gorgeous, began to echo across the room. I was  
swept away by the power and bittersweet tone of her song.  
  
And, in listening to all the notes, I was moved to the tears I had promised  
myself I would never cry again.  
  
---  
  
I went through the day in a sort of dreary blur, not really paying attention  
to my duties. Watching Michiru play that morning had brought tears - tears that I   
hated more than anything else - into my eyes and a lump to my throat. If ever there  
had been a beautiful woman, Kaioh Michiru was she.  
  
As dazed and confused as I was, I used my lunch hour wisely and managed to   
book two tickets for a Saturday afternoon classical concert that I had been dying to  
go to. I was fairly certain that Okuno would call sometime over the weekend and ask   
me to go drinking, and it would be nice to go out and have some bonding time. Even if  
he'd be miserable for the duration of the concert.  
  
It was almost four p.m. that afternoon when I finally pulled on my light   
fall jacket and started out across the courtyard and toward the parking lot. I hadn't  
heard from Megumi all day, something that both relieved and worried me at the same  
time. No news was good news, but, somehow, no news from Megumi FELT like bad news.  
  
I had almost made it all the way to my vehicle when I heard Michiru's voice,  
clear as a bell and obviously shaken, call after me. I turned to find her running  
in direction, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her eyes blotchy from crying.  
  
She collapsed onto my chest, crying softly against my shirt. I moved shakily  
to wrap my arms around her waist and hold her, trying to seem as comforting as I   
could. My heart was beating at a frenzied pace, though, and my stomach was doing   
flip-flops within. Oh, how Fate smiles while she mocks me!  
  
After a moment of tearful silence, Michiru looked up at me and wiped her   
face. "G-gomen nasai," she apologized softly, stepping away and staring at the ground.  
"I overreacted..."  
  
"What happened?" I asked gently, intent on gazing at her. She was beautiful,  
even when she cried.  
  
Gah! I scolded myself inwardly. She is a co-worker! She is a FRIEND! And she  
is a completely and utterly heterosexual woman! I kicked myself several times for   
even THINKING about having a relationship. It was stupid, childish... Almost   
obscene...  
  
"Megumi called, just now," she told me with a small sniffle, dabbing her   
eyes with her long fingers as she spoke. "She was really upset, babbling for several  
minutes, and I could hardly understand her..."  
  
Typical Megumi.  
  
"But she was calling to tell me that her father passed away." Her blue eyes  
welled up with tears again, and I could see her trying to swallow her grief. "And she  
talked, and reminded me of MY father, and..." Her eyes closed.  
  
I didn't need to see the tears to know they were there, so I stepped forward  
and embraced her again, the leaves and wind swirling around us. The peace of one   
simple fall day shattered silently as we stood, holding each other, in the parking  
lot.  
  
It shattered, just as a fall day had shattered for me, years before.  
  
---  
End Chapter IV  
--- 


	6. A Thousand Church Bells

--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter V - "A Thousand Church Bells"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
My sister had died on a Monday, too.  
  
From the day she was born, Ten'ou Kiboko - 'the sky ruler's small wish,' if  
you will - had been a sickly, pale child. I still remember the day she was born more   
potently than I remember anything else, because it was snowing. It was snowing fat   
flakes as my father and I drove to the hospital, having received a call from my   
mother's boss that she had gone into labor, two and a half months too early.   
  
I was almost eight years old, and I can still feel the coolness of the   
tempered glass window against my cheek, and I can still see the fluffy white   
snowflakes falling onto the ground, coating it fully with soft, white snow.  
  
Father rushed into the birthing room just in time to see my sister born, or  
so I was always told when my parents retold the tale. I sat impatiently in the   
hallway, a scratchy plastic chair biting at my back through my parka. Occasionally,  
a nurse would come up to me to make sure I wasn't getting into trouble, ruffling my  
sandy blonde bob of hair and asking me if it was exciting to be getting a baby   
sister or brother. I just shrugged. I was quiet even then.  
  
After what seemed to be months, my father emerged, sweaty but smiling at   
me. "You have a baby sister, Haruka," he informed me, kneeling in front of the chair,  
still wearing the green hospital scrubs. "She's small, but she's going to be okay."  
  
"What's her name?"  
  
"Kiboko."  
  
Kiboko. I snorted. Sounded like a brand of soft drink.  
  
Unfortunately, my sister was not as okay as my father made it sound. Her   
prematurity had left her with minor defects here and there - a mitral-valve heart,  
shortness of breath, a weakened immune system. She couldn't play with other children  
for very long before having to gasp for oxygen. If I came home from school with a   
cold, or the flu, or even a minor runny nose, I had to stay as far away from her   
as I could, for fear that I would make her sicker than she already was. Her hair was  
a stringy, white-blond mass, falling down over her tiny shoulders like limp   
spaghetti, and her skin was the perfect alabaster. Dull, washed-out blue eyes stared  
out at the world, blinking adorably. By the time she was four - and I was a   
rebellious twelve-year-old, smoking the adolescent track circuit - the doctors   
declared she wouldn't last much longer. To my parents, it was a shock, something that  
they would have never expected.  
  
For me, it was the diagnosis of the inevitable.  
  
I moved out when she was just about to turn six, still fighting with all her  
heart to beat the illness that her prematurity had caused. Many times - before I   
left, at least - she asked me why I didn't get along with our parents, and I   
couldn't help but sigh. "Sometimes, Ki-imoto, you just have to go your own way in   
life."  
  
Her vacant eyes stared dully at me. "But I want you to stay," she whimpered,  
as if that would solve everything.  
  
I glanced away. "We can't always have what we want, Ki-chan," I sighed,   
ruffling her thin hair with a gentle hand. "Sometimes, we have to go where the wind  
takes us."  
  
It was September when the phone call came, and Kiboko was only three short   
months away from turning seven. She had come down with some virus that was putting a   
lot of stress on her heart, my father told me, and she was probably not going to make  
it through the night. Would I come and see her at the hospital?  
  
Would I?  
  
The hospital was dark, dreary, and cold as I strode through it, almost   
completely alone. Visiting hours were almost over, and the rain - a pouring, driving,  
relentless rain - scared off many well wishers of the hospital patients. I asked for  
directions to the children's intensive care unit from a rather concerned-looking   
nurse and continued my trek, hoping that Kiboko would be alone when I walked into  
the room.  
  
She was sleeping when I strode in, and - as quiet as I tried to be - my   
footsteps woke her. Pale eyes blinked listlessly at me, and - after a moment of   
silent frowning - she smiled.  
  
"Onee-chan," she whispered, her voice more shaken and helpless than I   
remembered it. "You came to say goodbye."  
  
Tears bit my eyes, cold, sharp, and unforgiving. I sat down in a chair that  
had been pulled up to her bedside, a chair that was strikingly familiar to the   
one I had sat in the day she had been born. "Why goodbye?" I questioned, playing  
dumb to the truth that she already knew.   
  
"Because I'm going to die."  
  
There was silence, and I could feel a shiver run up my spine. "Die?" I   
asked, as though I was surprised. "How do you know you're going to die? You're   
surrounded by doctors and nurses, and each and every one of them want to see you   
grow up someday."  
  
She shook her head and smiled slightly. "Maybe you don't see it," she   
breathed, reaching out to touch my hand with a clammy hand, "but I can see it. I   
can FEEL that my heart isn't doing so well. Pretty soon, it will stop. And when   
it does..." She sighed. "I will die."  
  
I pushed away my tears. I tried not to acknowledge them. Or the truth in   
my sister's words. I tried not to recognize what she was saying, what she knew would  
happen... I tried to fight it.  
  
A tear snaked down my cheek. "Well, if you're so sure," I gulped, hoping  
that the croaking of my voice wasn't as obvious as I thought it was, "then I'll   
just have to say goodbye. Just to make you happy, of course."  
  
Her smile was back. "Of course."  
  
"So, then..." I stood and reached down, hugging her gently. I hadn't   
remembered her as being so thin and gaunt, so pale and helpless. She looked so...   
Sad. Sad and listless.  
  
"Sayonara, Ki-chan."  
  
She hugged me back. "Sayonara."  
  
The nurses told me that she died only five minutes after I left the room.  
  
---  
  
I straightened my tie and glanced at myself in the mirror, making sure that  
I didn't belittle my position as a suave writer...and a high school gym teacher.   
It was a rainy, disgusting Thursday morning, the kind of Thursday that no one would  
want to greet them upon waking. But I woke up a hour earlier than I normally did  
and donned my suit, this Thursday... Because this Thursday was not a normal day.  
  
Megumi's father was to have his funeral on this rainy, ugly Thursday.  
  
I had not been formally invited to the event; very few teachers had, in fact.  
And most of those who were invited - the ever-polite school nurse excluded - had   
declined, saying that it was too much for them to bear. Inwardly, I wondered which  
part of the funeral was so hard to bear: the ceremony itself, or the dead man's   
daughter.  
  
Michiru had been invited, and she told me that I was supposed to come with  
her. I didn't know if she was telling the truth or not. When I had heard the news,  
I had become utterly certain that the redhead wouldn't want me to be there, and the   
fact that she hadn't called me up personally seemed to prove me right. I ran a comb  
through my hair, wondering how much of this whole ordeal was not Megumi's will but  
rather Michiru taking things into her own hands. Somehow, it seemed like a VERY   
Michiru-like thing to do.  
  
My doorbell rang, and I set down my comb and gave myself a brief once-over.  
A dapper black suit with a silver shirt and blue tie. Nice. My hair combed back, still  
just a little damp from that morning's shower. Perfect. I looked like a million   
bucks.  
  
I think Kiboko would have been happy to know I went to someone else's   
funeral, I smiled to myself, starting across my apartment and toward the door. Even  
if I hadn't been invited to hers.  
  
"Good morning, Haruka," smiled Michiru from the hallway, totally surprising   
me. I had expected that her driver would be taking us through the wet Tokyo streets,  
making sure that his employer - his most precious of cargo - would be safe from   
harm. Seeing her standing there, wearing a raincoat over what I expected, was some   
sort of black dress, caused my eyes to bug out.   
  
She chuckled at my reaction, rolling her bright eyes playfully. "Let me   
guess," she smirked, tossing her slightly damp aquamarine hair. "You HATE women   
drivers."  
  
My smile came naturally. "Hey, now, I never said that," I retorted, grabbing  
my keys and tossing them in my back-most pants pocket. "I'll have you know that there  
is one woman driver I trust completely with my life."  
  
"Yeah - YOU," she snorted, as though she was offended. She crossed her arms  
over her chest and looked cutely at me. I put on my most surprised look, as if I   
had not been expecting that answer from her. She frowned. "That's what you were going  
to say, now, wasn't it?"  
  
I stepped into the hallway and pulled shut my apartment door. For the first   
time, I felt completely comfortable in her presence. There was something about her  
and her light, carefree smile that made me feel totally at home.  
  
As if I had known her for eons... and as if I would never lose her.  
  
"No, Michiru," I responded, wrapping an arm around her waist like a proper   
escort would. "I trust YOU."  
  
She was speechless.  
  
---  
  
My parents had decided not to invite me to Kiboko's funeral. It had been a   
difficult decision for them, locking away their older daughter from such a forlorn   
ceremony, but they had done it nonetheless. "It's better this way," my father told   
me sadly after I had phoned to ask where and when the funeral would be. "But you   
can visit her gravesite after the ceremony. She'll be buried at the Nilanu Graveyard.  
You do know where that is, right?"  
  
I had assured him I did and hung up the phone.  
  
Megumi's father was being laid to rest in Nilanu as well, and bittersweet   
memories flooded my mind as Michiru pulled into the large parking lot in the back   
of the graveyard. I remembered the sunny fall day I had gone to visit Kiboko's   
grave. It had taken me three hours to find it amongst all the other sites; my father  
had given me the general area of her memorial, but nothing more.  
  
It was a plan gravestone. "Ten'ou Kiboko. Born: December 21, 1986.  
September 17, 1993. Rest in peace."  
  
We climbed out of Michiru's modest purple Honda and began to trek up the hill  
towards the newer, fresher grave stones. The pouring rain had given away to a gentle  
misting, the moisture enough to blur my vision and dampen my hair, but not enough   
to require my umbrella.  
  
"It's so sad," sighed my companion after a small moment of silence, her head  
bowed reverently as we passed by so many resting places. "I can't come here without  
being reminded of my father's funeral."  
  
I arched an eyebrow at her comment, remembering the vague comment she had   
made about her father, earlier that week. What was it she had said? That the death  
of Megumi's father brought back the pain of her father's death?  
  
She chuckled embarassedly, raising a hand to her lips. "I know, it's   
foolish," she continued on before I could pause to ask about her father. "He died  
only a year ago, but I can hardly remember." Her eyes fogged over, and she turned   
her face away from me, gazing across the graveyard. "Do you ever feel like that,   
Haruka? That you have memories sitting on the edge of your consciousness, but you   
really can't remember them at all? It's like a...a blur, and you FEEL so many things,  
but you just can't place them..."  
  
My breath choked in my throat. I felt my heart race, my stomach twist, my   
hands grow clammy and begin to shake. She felt the same things I did! Part of me   
wanted to grin, to seize her in my arms, to kiss her and tell her that I feel all   
those same things about her, but part of me... Part of me was seized with fear.  
  
Was it fate? Was my friendship with this woman part of a destiny I did not  
understand?  
  
I pushed all those thoughts, fearful and joyous, from my mind. "Sometimes,   
I get these moments of deja vu," I responded, thrusting my hands into my pockets   
as I spoke. My eyes moved to glance at the wet grass. "As though I'm remembering   
something locked away, something secret... Something I - "  
  
" - should have felt years ago," Michiru finished, her soprano lilt chiming   
in with my darker, tenor voice to speak the words in unison. I moved to look at her,  
only to find that she was looking at me, and our eyes met in a spark of emotion.  
  
I imagined her in a white dress, sitting on red-carpeted stairs as she told  
me of her vision of the apocalypse. Of the power, darkness, and terror that would   
be the end of the world. And then, she smiled and told me that a girl at her school  
admired me, even though she - like me - was a girl.  
  
A girl...and a girl. My on-going torment. Loving the one you can't.  
  
I sighed and pulled my gaze from hers. For a moment, we stood in the midst  
of the grass, neither of us saying a word. What could you say to that?   
  
The silence was broken by a voice calling out to us. "Michiru-san! Ten'ou-  
san!" waved the forever-odd school nurse, Meiou Setsuna, as she jogged up hill after  
us. Michiru smiled politely and nodded her hello, and I just pursed my lips. Talk  
about a ruined moment.   
  
"So, Megumi invited you to this shin-dig, too?" questioned the green-haired  
medical maven, brushing a stubborn strand of hair from her bright red eyes. My   
eyebrows raised in doubt, and she chuckled. "I'm sorry," she apologized humbly,   
probably afraid that I would take offense to her comment. "Death tends to make me a   
bit jumpy. I lost my entire family a long time ago to a disaster, and I haven't   
viewed death in the same way, since."  
  
Disaster? I glanced at her saddened face, and was hit with the picture of an  
exploding castle. I shook the image from my head; the last thing I wanted was more   
deja vu.   
  
"I can understand," nodded Michiru softly, her pink lips drawn into a small  
frown as she responded. "I lost my father last year, and it was...terrible."  
  
They both looked expectantly in my direction, and I shook my head. "I haven't  
had the misfortune to lose anyone in my life," I lied smoothly, tossing my head.   
"The people I love are all fine."  
  
---  
  
The ceremony itself was short and mostly painless. Megumi, wearing a black   
pants suit and a black veil, spoke first, tearfully explaining how sweet a heart and   
soul her father had. "He was like a gift to my family and I," she sniffled, clutching  
a red rose to her heart. Her usually bright eyes stared down at the red-brown   
casket, which was suspended above the ground for all to see. "Even after our mother  
died, he looked over Kiri and I, like...like an angel..." She broke into sobs and  
quickly tossed the rose onto his casket before moving to stand beside some sort of   
relative and receive a consoling hug and tissue.   
  
Next was her sister Kiri, a short, spry young woman with a tuft of red-brown   
hair and the same shining eyes as Megumi. She basically echoed what the older woman  
had said before adding her flower to the casket top and walking off.  
  
A few more relatives - aunts, cousins, and some sort of distant step-sister's  
husband - spoke about the dead man's general kindness and goodness. It seemed as   
though he had been a model citizen, perfect husband, and outstanding father, raising  
two motherless girls through their terrible teenage years without ever having to   
bat an eye or worry the least about their rebellions. With every speaker, there was  
a rose added to the top of the casket until seven perfectly red roses - one for   
every decade of his life - laid before us. With each added rose, Michiru would begin  
to sniffle and tear up even more than she had with the first speech, and by the   
time the last relation was done talking, she was struggling to hold back a sob.  
  
Then, Megumi stepped forward and announced that a freshman student had   
offered to sing for the funeral. "She is a very talented young lady," she assured  
us, her eyes red and puffy from bawling her way through the funeral. "She, herself,  
has battled illness and beaten the odds to be here today, just as my father had   
attempted to do until the very end." She was near tears once again.  
  
My brow furrowed, and I exchanged wary glances with Setsuna. There was only   
one freshman-aged student I knew of who had battled illness, and I'm sure that the  
green-haired nurse was thinking of the EXACT SAME girl.  
  
Out of the small group of people stepped a previously unnoticed Tomoe Hotaru.  
She was dressed in a long black skirt with a matching black-lace blouse. I almost  
thought she had stepped out of something along the lines of "Teen Fashion" and not  
a funeral party; after all, wasn't black "in" this season?  
  
She cleared her throat and began to sing, and I suddenly understood just   
why Megumi would have chosen her to sing at the funeral. Her voice was GORGEOUS.  
  
Four stanzas of "Amazing Grace" later, even I was forced to hold back tears.  
The tiny soprano had what I would term the most beautiful voice I had ever heard in  
my entire life, filled with emotion, love, and peace. Michiru's quiet sniffles turned  
into full-fledged sobs as she leaned into my shoulder, crying.  
  
Megumi thanked us all for coming and more-or-less dismissed us to leave.   
Then, she walked up to me and, without a word, threw her arms around my neck and   
hugged me tight.  
  
For a moment, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I decided to hug her  
gently back, showing her sympathy and caring. "It will be alright, Megumi."  
  
I heard her sob into my shoulder. "I know," she choked out, raising her head  
to look me in the face. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and a few drops of the   
familiar moisture had already slid down her cheeks. "I just wanted to thank you for  
coming. When I told Michiru to bring you, she said that you wouldn't want to go."  
  
Michiru chuckled slightly and rested a hand on my arm. "I think I just proved  
how little I know about Haruka," she responded to the redhead's comment, her smile  
gentle and reassuring. "She knows when she needs to warm someone else's heart."  
  
I smiled too, flushing a bit. I hated hearing things like that.  
  
The group dwindled down after a bit, leaving only the three of us - that is,  
Michiru, Setsuna, and I - and Megumi's family remaining. I stood apart from the   
group, hands in my pockets, staring out into the distance at a little grove of three  
oak trees. Under the leftmost tree, I knew, laid my little sister's grave, her simple  
grave stone and a small patch of roses that my mother had planted beside her grave.  
  
I glanced back to Michiru. She didn't notice me; she was too busy chatting  
solemnly with the others. She wouldn't even notice if I was gone.  
  
And so, I started out toward the three trees.  
  
---  
  
So many of my memories were blurs in my mind as I strode through that   
graveyard in the misty morning. I found myself struggling to remember what my father  
said when I last spoke to him, what my piano instructor from high school looked like,  
who my friends were when I was still taking classes. Instead, I remembered all the  
moments from elementary school, and everything in the last four or five years. That  
was IT.  
  
Psychological experts believe that, when a person is forced to live through a  
traumatic experience, his mind pushes the memory of that experience all the way  
into his subconscious in an attempt to rid him of that memory. That way, he can  
keep on living despite the pain he went through. Sort of like selective memory loss,  
only the selectivity comes not from his own choosing, but his mind's decision.  
  
I tried to remember what happened when I was high school. What in the world  
would trigger such a reaction in my mind? The only major occurrence I could remember  
was my sister's death.  
  
...and an exploding helicopter...  
  
...and something with Michiru...  
  
...and Setsuna...  
  
...Hotaru...  
  
My pondering brought me right before my little sister's gravestone, and I  
sighed. As Shinto as they had claimed to be, my parents had insisted on a Western   
burial for little Kiboko, without the traditional trappings of a culture the girl  
hardly got to experience. Despite this, I felt guilty. Guilty for showing up empty-  
handed, nothing to present to my little sister.  
  
I got on my knees and stared blankly at the gravestone, my eyes staring at  
the words "Rest in Peace" as I tried to think of things to say. I could feel the  
tears biting at my eyes, trying to break free, but I refused to let them. I refused  
to give in.  
  
"Well, imoto," I began shakily, folding my hands atop my knees, "I went to   
a funeral today. The father of my friend passed away, and she asked me to be there.   
She was very happy I was there, like you would have been had I come to your funeral.  
That wasn't my choice, you know. Mother and Father asked me not to come... And so,  
I stayed. Part of me wishes I would have come to say goodbye to you another time,  
though."  
  
I pursed my lips and moved to brush my bangs from my eyes. "I'm on leave  
from the newspaper to teach high school gym. I know, isn't that silly? Well, that's  
where they need me, and I'm mostly glad that I did it. I've met a few great people,  
like Megumi, Setsuna, and Michiru... Mostly Michiru." My nose wrinkled. What was I   
supposed to say about Michiru? "Michiru is... She's a wonderful human being, so   
full of sweetness and life. Her smile lights up the world, and her voice is like...  
Like a dream, something sweet and perfect. Not unlike yours was. I think you would  
have really liked her, Ki-chan. I think that - "  
  
"Haruka?" The word was soft, well-formed, said as only one person in the   
universe said it. I gave a start and whirled around, eyes wide. Standing behind me,  
her hands folded at her waist, was Michiru.   
  
I jumped to my feet, brushing wet grass from my pants. "G-gomen," I stumbled,  
my voice catching in my throat. "I didn't think you would miss me, so..."  
  
"Your sister?" she questioned, her blue eyes looking past me and at the   
memorial stone. I nodded weakly, and she stepped forward, standing next to me so that  
she, too, could look upon the grave.  
  
Then, she smiled with all the sweetness of a million angels. "Hello, Kiboko,"  
she greeted the grave, bowing her head in polite reverence. "I heard your sister   
talking about me just now, so I thought to introduce myself. My name is Kaioh   
Michiru, and I teach orchestra to high school students. It's an honor to meet you."  
  
A blush, warm and slightly uncomfortable, touched my cheeks as the aqua-  
haired beauty turned away from the grave, her face tilting up until I could meet her  
gaze. For a moment, we stood in silence, my hands shaking at my sides as I stared  
into her magnificent blue eyes. My mind reeled with what I should do. Kiss her? Hug  
her? Thank her? A combination of all three?   
  
Before I could think of something to do, Michiru stepped forward and wrapped  
her arms around my waist, her cheek against my chest as she hugged me tightly. "I'm  
sorry for your loss," she breathed, her voice like the soft chiming of a church bell.  
"I didn't know."  
  
I hugged her back, closing my eyes in contentment, the reality of the morning  
completely lost to me. I had somehow walked into a dream, a dream where Michiru was  
a goddess and I was a mortal, a dream from which I never wanted to wake.  
  
---  
  
That same night, my dreams were haunting, bittersweet moments that I had   
never seen before. I dreamt that I was standing atop a roof in downtown Tokyo, my   
wrists weighed down with heavy golden bracelets. A slight wind ruffled not only   
my shaggy hair but also the outfit I was wearing - a short, dark-blue skirt that   
jutted out from a white body suit with various bows on it. I watched in hidden   
horror as a woman, dressed in gold, attempted to murder this younger, blonde girl.  
  
Suddenly, the picture shimmered, and I was standing in some sort of arena.  
At least, it looked vaguely like an arena, but it did not seem to have walls or   
doors. A vague, always-shifting backdrop of reds, blacks, and silvers shifted around  
me.  
  
"Why are you doing this?!" screamed a voice suddenly, and I turned to see  
Setsuna standing before me, clutching a long staff. At least, it looked as though it  
was Setsuna. Her long green hair and bright red eyes were the same, but her   
clothing... She wore a ludicrous outfit that was much like mine, only hers was mostly  
a greenish-black color. Some sort of metal headband sat on her forehead, a dark  
red stone set into the pure gold of her tiara.  
  
Tiara? Why did I think it was a tiara? I -   
  
"Uranus! Neptune! Stop!" screamed a younger voice, and my eyes moved to   
glance at a thoroughly horrified little girl. Hotaru! my mind screamed as I glanced  
into her frightened purple eyes. But why was Hotaru, too, dressed in such outrageous  
clothes? And why was she holding some sort of G-shaped weapon?  
  
Words came to my mouth, words I did not remember ever learning. "World   
Shaking!" I screamed, my hands and body moving without my bidding. A globe of orange  
energy shot out, and -   
  
The picture shifted again, and I was riding in my familiar yellow   
convertible, shooting down the seashore, my hair blown by the cool wind as I drove.  
  
"I don't plan on letting you go, tonight," I said to no one in particular,  
not even realizing I said it. My eyes moved to glance at my passenger, and I blinked  
inwardly.  
  
Michiru! Sitting beside me, garbed in a burgundy-and-green school uniform,  
her hair falling about her shoulders in the usual beautiful way, was Michiru! But,  
if she was there, then where were we? And why did my dream feel so familiar?!  
  
I awoke to the dueling sounds of my alarm clock and my telephone blearing in  
my ears. Groaning, I rolled over and turned off the stupid clock, wondering silently  
why I had bought it when I could just as easily be alerted to the morning by Okuno's  
phone calls.   
  
"Moshi moshi, Okuno," I grumbled into the receiver, my eyes half-opened.  
It was to be Megumi's first day back at school since her father's heart attack, but  
I was expected to show up and watch the presentations that I had forced her students  
to put together. Talk about injustice.  
  
Okuno snorted on the other end of the line. "How'd you know it was me?" he   
asked crankily, obviously not having a good morning. I hadn't really looked over the   
Daily in the last few days, and I wondered if there was something wrong.   
  
I chuckled. "Who else calls this early in the morning?" I responded with   
a smirk, sitting up in bed and groping for my comb. My mind started making a mental   
list of what I had to do before school; shower, eat, gather all Megumi's supplies  
to return to her...and that was just naming a few of the many. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's WRONG," he growled at me, and I sighed. Would he ever give me   
insight to his psyche? Probably not, I decided with an inner shrug. Some people just  
never shared...like me. "I was wondering, though, if you want to go out tomorrow  
night. There's a big party here at the paper, and everyone's missing you like crazy.  
You making a cameo appearance might do some good."  
  
Good for me, or his section? I wondered silently. "Lemme guess," I chortled,  
running a hand through my shaggy hair. "You're under major duress to win me back   
to the paper before I decide to become some sort of crazy teacher."  
  
There was silence, and I could see his face in my mind. He was probably   
grimacing, not sure if he should tell me the truth or lie through his teeth.   
Predictably, he chose the latter. "We all miss you, Ten'ou. You should know that.  
Everyone will be excited to see you, again."  
  
"Especially the editor-in-chief," I retorted. He didn't respond.  
  
I glanced at the pair of concert tickets that were sitting on my nightstand.  
The concert, I knew, would only last until seven or so, and then what? Asking Okuno  
was out of the question because of the paper party, and, honestly, my intent of   
inviting him had diminished to zero. The correct choice had become obvious.  
  
"I can stop by around seven or so," I told him with a small smile. "I'm   
going to a concert in the afternoon, but I'm sure my date and I can swing by   
afterwards."  
  
"That's fine," he began to respond. "The party won't be getting good un -   
WHAT?!"  
  
I laughed aloud. "You'll like her," I continued, leaning back against my   
headboard as I listened to him sputter on the other end. "She's very smart, beautiful,  
and plays violin."  
  
"You're bringing HER?!" he roared, shock and surprise registering in his   
voice.  
  
"See you then, Okuno."  
  
"But - "  
  
"Have a good day."  
  
"Ten'ou!"  
  
"Ja!"  
  
"Te - "  
  
I hung up the phone.  
  
---  
  
Despite the high spirits that had greeted me when I first woke up that   
morning, I found myself drifting through the day in a trace-like state. My dream   
remained fresh in mind, startlingly real. It was as though I hadn't dreamt it at all  
but had actually lived it, and the dream had been but a manifestation of my memories.  
  
But what could it mean? The question plagued me, haunting my every breath  
and thought. Why would I have dressed in a short skirt and a bodysuit, and why would  
Hotaru - a student I had met but weeks before - call me "Uranus?" Uranus was a planet  
near the very end of the solar system, not my name!  
  
And yet, the name was familiar, like a blanket you shroud yourself in during  
the cold of winter.  
  
All my classes - both those I was relinquishing back to Megumi and those that  
I taught on my own - were uneventful. Boring, even. I wandered through them idly,   
disinterested in what was going on. The Japanese presentations were all cute and   
rather informative, and Megumi was quite pleased. My gym students ran a 1600 meter   
race and totally ignored my existence. Not that I minded dreadfully; I wasn't in the  
mood to chat with a bunch of teenagers, anyway.  
  
I didn't see Michiru at all until after school. I immerged from the locker   
room carrying my track bag, my T-shirt blowing lightly in the wind. The nasty, rainy  
Thursday had given way to a beautiful, sunny Friday, a Friday that was unseasonably   
warm for the fall.   
  
She was standing outside the gymnasium, waiting for me. Initially, I thought  
it was a coincidence, but I realized when she smiled at me that it wasn't. Her face  
lit up like a Christmas tree, her eyes sparkling and her lips curving into a smile.  
  
My heart did a flip-flop in my chest, and I found myself smiling, too. Why in  
the world was I letting myself fall so far for this woman?  
  
Maybe she was right. Maybe there WAS fate, after all.  
  
"Haruka," she greeted me, her face still as bright as a thousand stars. "I   
was hoping to run into you."  
  
I smiled bashfully, my cheeks flushing like a schoolgirl's. "I'm glad you   
found me," I responded softly, totally at a loss for words. What was happening to me?  
I was turning into a hopeless romantic without even trying! "I was meaning to ask   
you something."  
  
"Me too," she nodded, blushing on her own accord. "Maybe you could go first?"  
  
My head bobbed a "yes" without my ever knowing it. For a moment, I couldn't   
help but stare down at her, her beautiful aquamarine tresses held back by a thin black  
headband. For a moment, I imagined myself standing only inches away from her at a   
track meet, the wind ruffling my hair and rumpling my sweatshirt. But the vision   
disappeared as quickly as it had come, and I once again found myself standing outside  
the Giakiin gymnasium, gazing down at the most beautiful woman in the world.  
  
I swallowed the lump in my throat, suddenly feeling awkward. Here I was,   
standing across from another woman, about to ask her to spend an afternoon and evening  
with me - to ask her on a DATE. And this woman was completely, totally, and utterly   
STRAIGHT. What a fool I was!  
  
She arched her eyebrows at me, questioning the silence. "Are you going to ask  
me your question, or do I need to break the ice with a song and dance?" she joked,  
her chuckle high and light.  
  
A smile lit my face. Was there anything she couldn't do? "I have tickets for  
this amazing concert tomorrow afternoon," I informed her, my stomach somersaulting   
within me, "and then I'm going to a party that the newspaper is hosting." I paused.  
What else to say? "I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go with me...sort of...  
Well, sort of as - "  
  
"A date?" she smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and mirth. I could   
feel my face lose all its color immediately, but all she did was laugh. Her laughter  
was so graceful, so elegant... Like the sound of a thousand chiming church bells, all  
ringing in harmony. "It was a joke, Haruka! A joke!" she chortled, assuming that I   
went white at how false her jest had been.  
  
If only she knew how true it was...  
  
"But I would love to go!" she smiled, clasping her hands together. "I've never  
been to a journalistic party. It sounds like an experience, if all reporters are like  
you."  
  
Few are, I thought inwardly with a sigh. Very few.  
  
A moment of silence passed before I realized that she'd mentioned needing to  
ask me something. "What about your question?" I said, breaking the quiet. "Did you  
need to speak to me about something?"  
  
Her eyes slanted in mirth as she smiled charmingly. "Oh, I was just going to  
ask you if you wanted to catch dinner tomorrow night," she responded, as though it  
meant nothing. "But you beat me to it."  
  
I smiled and laughed. Fate was beginning to make more and more of a case for   
itself.  
  
And so another day set upon Giakiin High School, leaving me certain of only   
one thing in my life:  
  
I was in love with Kaioh Michiru.  
  
---  
End Chapter V.  
--- 


	7. Sun, Moon, and Stars

"Teach my soul to take this chance..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter VI - "Sun, Moon, and Stars"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
It wasn't until I got into my car and drove off, quite literally, into the   
sunset that I realized how much I loved Kaioh Michiru. I don't know why I decided it  
was love, or how it came to pass, but suddenly, I just KNEW.  
  
I knew that I loved her.  
  
Something about her was beautiful, passionate, and just...fulfilling. I   
couldn't put my finger on what it was, and maybe that was because everything about  
her seemed absolutely perfect. When she was near, I felt as though I was finally   
complete. And that was a feeling I never wanted to lose.  
  
My mind tried to reason with me. I was reminded of all the deja vu flashes,  
all the funny visions that included Michiru as a part of them. Visions that I did  
not understand. Visions that couldn't be explained. They were new, foreign,   
something that I could not explain away. And it was going to Giakiin and meeting the  
beautiful orchestra teacher, eccentric nurse, and mysterious freshman that had   
triggered all those things.   
  
But, for some reasons, they felt familiar. Almost good. It was as though   
they made up for all the blanks in my memories that I, alone, could not fill.   
  
Completion. The word haunted me.  
  
I strode into my apartment and flicked on the kitchen light, my mind and   
heart light. I was practically floating, because - for the very first time in my   
life - I was really, truly in love. I mean, I had fooled around with men and women  
before, playing with their hearts while they toyed with my own, but I had never   
felt so downright WONDERFUL. All the flirting seemed insignificant, all the   
fruitless dates pointless, all the meaningless kisses in the dark just that -   
meaningless. I had finally found someone I could really care about!  
  
And then, just as I put a pot of ramen on the stove to boil, I came crashing  
back down into the reality that was my life in Tokyo. The here-and-now.  
  
Michiru liked MEN.  
  
Well, okay, so I had no proof. Absolutely none. But the chances were that  
she just thought of me as a colleague and friend, not as a lover. I threw myself  
into a chair and buried my head in my hands. What in the WORLD was I thinking?!  
  
Michiru was practically a goddess. With her flowing aqua waves and her   
bright, shining blue eyes, she looked more like a mermaid than a human being. There  
was no one in the world more beautiful, kind, or graceful. She was...   
  
Perfect was the only word that came to mind. She was perfect.  
  
I remembered standing in the school yard with her, her hand on my arm as  
she told me to be myself. Who else in the universe had been that open with me? No  
one.  
  
Okuno knew that I was a girl, but that was purely accidental. Early in my   
journalistic career, I got really sick with the flu and called in, telling him that  
I couldn't make it to the office. I must have sounded severely ill, because he   
showed up at my door that evening with a few cans of chicken broth and a thermos  
full of tea.   
  
The look on his face when opened the door was enough to break someone's   
heart. I was wearing a bathrobe, and it left NOTHING to the imagination. I sighed  
and invited him in, and I explained everything. Like the fact that I preferred   
women to men. Like the fact that it was easier for me to walk, talk, and act like  
a male than it was for me to walk, talk, and act like a female.   
  
That day, when we sat and I told him everything about myself, solidified my   
relationship with Okuno forever. He became the older brother I had never had, a   
positive male influence. It was refreshing to have someone to talk to.  
  
But I had told him everything in an awkward situation. Had he not come in   
and seen me in a revealing bathrobe and immediately known I was a woman, I would   
have never even told him I was a female. I would have continued my charade forever.  
And then, where would I be?  
  
Michiru already knew that I was a woman. The easy part was over. It was the  
rest - explaining to her how I felt, both about other women and about her - that   
would be the difficult part.  
  
I sighed, shaking my head.  
  
How was I to tell Michiru - my sun, moon, and stars - that she wasn't just  
a friend?  
  
---  
  
I woke up late on Saturday morning, having intentionally turned off both   
my phone and alarm clock before bed. My "Michiru dilemma," as I was beginning to   
call it, had kept me up nearly half the night, and I was grateful for the extra   
sleep.  
  
Upon waking, I reached for the phone and checked my voice mail at the   
newspaper. There were three messages, and all of them were from my editor. The first  
two were furious; Okuno was angry that I was bringing Michiru to the party that  
night, and even angrier that I had shut off my home phone so that he wasn't be  
able to call me. The third, however, was completely different.  
  
"Listen, Ten'ou," he sighed, his voice filled with an odd twang of concern,  
"I don't want you to be dealing with whatever demons you have on your own, okay?  
I'm sorry if I've been destroying your relationship with this woman or something...  
But I don't want you to be hurt. Call me if you get a chance this afternoon.  
Otherwise, I'll talk to you tonight."  
  
There was a pause, and he sighed again. "And ask yourself this, Haruka,"  
he finally said after a bout of total silence. "Can you live without her?  
  
"If the answer is no, then I give you the go-ahead to chase her."  
  
I smiled at the beep that signaled the end of the message.  
  
I went through my morning with the same relaxed pace that I normally did on   
Saturdays. The day was warm and bright, the late morning sun peaking through my   
windows and making bright little patterns on the hardwood floor. I tossed open the   
doors to my balcony and strode out, gazing down on the city below me.   
  
"An Indian summer," I mumbled to myself as an unusually warm breeze rustled   
past me. Shoppers mulled about the sidewalk, their arms laden with bags, as children  
played in the park across the street from my building. I watched the world go by,   
oddly content.   
  
The phone I had turned back on rang, and I growled softly to myself as I   
walked back into my bedroom. "Okuno," I grumbled into the receiver, "you really have a  
way of ruining a peaceful mo - "  
  
"Haruka?"  
  
My voice caught in my throat as soon as I heard her voice. "Sorry, Michiru,"  
I responded embarassedly, mentally kicking myself for my lofty assumption that it was  
Okuno on the other end. "I thought you were my editor."  
  
She chuckled in her sweet little way, and once again, I felt myself floating  
in place. What a lovely human being she was! "I was just wondering what the dress   
code for this mysterious concert is," she informed me. I could imagine her warm smile.  
Even across the phone line, it was intoxicating.  
  
"Oh, right," I flushed, imagining an anime-style sweatdrop rolling down my   
cheek. "It's a classical concert at the big hall, so..."  
  
"I should go with 'mildly sexy,' then?" she teased.   
  
I debated saying "definitely," but settled on "Sounds good" instead.  
  
There was a pause, and I was just about to say my good-byes and hang up the   
phone when Michiru began to speak a second time. "Haruka, may I ask a question of you?"  
  
If ever my heart stopped beating, it was then. My mind reeled with what she   
COULD be about to ask me. Had she figured out my feelings? Did she feel the same back  
from me? Was I losing my mind? After all, she could be asking me about what shoes   
I was wearing to the concert.  
  
She swallowed. Hard. "Well, I know that you sometimes allow people to think  
that you're a male," she began tentatively, her voice a bit shaky across the phone   
line. "And I don't care what reason you have for doing it, because it doesn't bother   
me at all. I was just curious... Are you a man at the newspaper, or no?"  
  
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. There was something   
very comforting in such a simple question. "With the exception of my editor, yes," I   
told her. "Okuno is the only one I trust with such a... Well, with my secret."  
  
"Yes. Your 'secret.'" She chuckled. "I wonder what it would have been like had  
I not knowing you were a female from the start."  
  
I frowned slightly. "I wonder the same thing," I responded quietly, not   
mentioning how desperately, I wanted to be a man...for her.  
  
---  
  
The concert itself was wonderful, both for the music and for my companion of   
the day. Michiru, of course, was radiant as ever, garbed in a blue-print dress that   
swept down to her ankles. She seemed set on outdoing my khakis, dress shirt, and   
blazer, too. Not that I was minded. She looked too good for me to take offence.   
  
Afterwards, we hopped into my convertible, rolled down the top, and started   
across the city toward the Daily office, where the party was being held.  
  
For a moment or two, we sat in complete silence, Michiru staring out at the   
buildings we passed. She looked thoughtful, almost as though she was distracted by  
something, and I suddenly felt as though I had been ignoring her. We hadn't really   
said much to one another on the way over, either.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts?" I questioned, glancing at her out of the corner  
of my eye. She gave a small start and gazed back at me, her eyes as beautiful as   
ever. She considered me silently for a moment before saying anything.  
  
Then, she pursed her lips. "We're friends, right?" she asked quietly.  
  
I nodded, a bit surprised by the question. "Of course, Michiru," I answered,  
smiling at her. For some reason, the question reminded me of elementary school, when   
all my friends and I would sit around and double-check our relationships at recess.  
  
"Then can I ask you a question?" came her next inquiry.   
  
I smiled again, reassuring her. What was the worst thing she could ask? "Sure,  
Michiru," I replied with a shrug. "Shoot. I promise I won't bite or anything."  
  
She chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Then, her visage   
became serious, as though one moment of good had been replaced with years and years   
of bad. "Haruka... Why do you sometimes pretend to be male?"  
  
For a moment, it took all the will-power I had not to slam on the brakes in  
the middle of the road. Of all the things she COULD have asked, I hadn't expected that  
one. My heart raced, my stomach churned, my hands turned cold and clammy.  
  
I remembered sitting in my living room with Okuno and explaining everything  
to him. Could I do the same with Michiru?  
  
"It's a long story," I warned her. "And it's not a pretty one, either."  
  
She wet her pink lips, and then smiled. "It's alright," she responded. "I   
want to hear it. I've wanted to hear it since the first day I met you."  
  
I sighed. Here went nothing.  
  
---  
  
All my life, I had been the tall kid, the thin kid, the girl who could outrun  
each and every one of the boys in the class, even when giving them a ten-second head  
start. My parents were both very busy with work; my father was a sales representative  
for a technology broker and was always traveling around the country, and my mother   
was the manager of a busy American restaurant in the middle of Tokyo's business   
district. Neither of them really had much time for me, and I didn't mind it; I liked  
being alone.  
  
From the very beginning, I never much acted like a girl. My hobbies were   
playing team sports in the park with friends and watching motocross races on   
television. During the summer, when my female classmates were going to the swimming   
pool or playing jump rope and hopscotch, I was racing across town on my bicycle, my   
friends in tow. We played pick-up games of baseball and field hockey wherever there   
was green space - the park, empty lots, even the rooftops of our respective apartment  
building.  
  
I hit puberty HARD at about eleven, and it suddenly wasn't "cool" for all the  
boys I spent time with to play with girls. Unfortunately, I had already ostracized  
myself from every female I knew, and it made my life a living Hell. All my male friends  
were destroyed, and I didn't have any female ones. What was a girl to do?  
  
So, instead of lamenting about having no one, I joined a small track circuit   
that was run out of my junior high school. We traveled everywhere - Kobe, Kyoto,   
Osaka, Sendai - just to compete. All my years of running around had finally paid off,  
and by the age of twelve, I was the star of the adolescent track world. Not that it   
mattered too terribly, because the rest of my life was failing.  
  
Kiboko took up all my parents' free time, and when they weren't busy trying  
to care for her, I was usually out of town. I didn't enjoy talking with them - I didn't  
enjoy talking to ANYONE - and so making friends was hard for me. I eventually got sick  
of coping with them, and I used the prize money from my track life to find a tiny   
place to live on my own. Kiboko died a year after I moved out.  
  
Living on my own was an eye-opener. My prize money - my only means of   
sustenance - started to disappear. I didn't know what to do!  
  
I began to hang around the F-1 race track, which was only a short walk from   
my apartment. There, I would stand by the fence and watch the giant cars speed by,   
the sound deafening to my young ears. I was fourteen.  
  
One day, when I was standing and watching the cars alone, a man walked up to   
me. "What you doing here, boy?" he questioned.  
  
Boy? I furrowed my brow. I wasn't a boy! And then, I realized that I COULD be.  
Why not? My hair was cut short enough, and my frame was too thin to have any real   
feminine curves.   
  
So I smiled at him, trying not to be TOO charming, and said, "I like watching  
the cars."  
  
"Know anything about cars?"  
  
I nodded earnestly. "I've read up on them, and I watch the crews all the time!"  
I replied, excited to have someone talking to me. I told him everything I knew about  
F-1 racers and even other race cars, and when I was done, he smiled at me.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Haruka."  
  
He had a towel around his neck, and he tossed it to me. I caught it, completely  
perplexed. What was he doing?  
  
"Guess what, Haruka. You're the team's new gopher. See you tomorrow."  
  
Besides putting me right up next to the action, being the team gopher was a   
well-paid position. Unfortunately, racing was a man's job, and I found myself assuming  
the identity of a male more and more frequently. Everyone was fooled. I could belch   
like a man, walk like a guy, talk like a boy, and do everything else that was required  
of me. Better than that, the bathroom was a single unisex stall, and so I never had   
to worry about being caught by going into the "wrong" washroom.  
  
I started getting to test-drive before races, and eventually ended up in the  
driver's seat. The men on the racing team said it was the natural evolution of an   
F-1 racer. Start at the very bottom, and work your way up. It was a good life.  
  
On off-season weekends, the team members and I would go dirt-bike racing on  
a track just outside of Tokyo. I made a lot of acquaintances that way. Not friends,   
but acquaintances. For some reason, I felt as though I couldn't share anything with   
these men. I'd been pretending to be one of them, pretending to be completely male,  
for far too long. It had been two years since my initial employment with the team,  
and I was now sixteen years old. If ever it was too late for me to introduce the   
REAL Ten'ou Haruka, the FEMALE Ten'ou Haruka, it was now.  
  
So I kept my hair cut short. I kept my mannerisms masculine. I kept... I kept  
playing the game.  
  
And, by time I quit racing, it was too late for me to go back.  
  
---  
  
I finished my life story just as we pulled into the Daily parking lot. I had  
more-or-less planned it that way, making a few unnecessary turns along the way to   
assure that I would have enough time to explain my worldly woes. Michiru was an   
attentive listener, her eyes focused on me the entire time, her face understanding  
and filled with compassion.  
  
We silently clambered out of my car, and I found myself staring her down in  
the middle of the pavement. "Uhm... That's it," I finally finished, having left off  
at an odd interval. Perhaps that was why she was being so quiet. Because I hadn't   
really concluded the story.  
  
Wordlessly, she closed the gap between us, standing scant inches away from   
me. My heart skipped a beat. I willed myself to remain as calm as humanly possible  
and to wait for her next move. It seemed to me that her life goal consisted of   
surprising me. Constant surprise. It was the one key she had.  
  
"I don't want you to ever hide when you're with me," she informed me, point-  
blank. An accusatory finger poked me in the center of my chest. HARD, too. For a   
small, graceful thing, she was a brute. "I want you to tell me when things are wrong,  
when you need a friend, and even when you don't. It's not fair that you have to cry  
alone, Haruka. You need someone in your life. Everyone does."  
  
I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat. "And you're volunteering for the  
position?" I asked breathlessly, wondering how much stock I should take in her words.  
Was it an offer or a joke?  
  
She smiled gently. "Of course, Haruka," she responded, her voice like silken  
honey. "That's what I'm here for."  
  
I couldn't argue with that.  
  
---  
  
"Haruka brought a girl with him!"  
  
"Someone mark this date on the calendar!"  
  
"Not only did Ten'ou finally get a girl, but she's a hot one! Yeouch!"  
  
"When's the wedding, man?"  
  
I strode into the Tokyo Daily just as I expected - the most popular "man" in   
the room. High fives and handshakes flew at me from all over, and that was excluding  
the massive heckling. I made my way through the milling journalists, smiling and   
laughing with them, Michiru following me the entire way.  
  
Okuno was standing in a corner as he did a most large gatherings, flirting  
with the purple-haired arts editor. I rarely talked to Fuki; she was a bit too dark and  
"alternative" for me to handle. I silently wondered what would be like to put her   
in a room with Megumi; after all, don't matter and antimatter explode when they collide?  
  
"Ten'ou showed up, now did he?" scoffed Okuno, moving from his attempted   
conquest to clap me on the back a few times. His smile lit up, and I could tell that  
he was glad to see me, alive and well. Then, he moved to glance at Michiru. "And is  
this the lovely Kaioh-san, the woman you've told me so much about?"  
  
Michiru bowed politely in his direction, something I don't think I had ever   
seen her do. "Pleased to see you, Hageshii-san," she addressed him. I blinked. I   
couldn't remember having told her his name... "I was really pleased on how your feature  
last year turned out. I'm glad that the city went on to expand so many local artistic   
and cultural opportunities because of your article. I was worried that I'd no help at  
all."  
  
I blinked again, and I found myself gaping at her. "Y-you... You both know...?"  
  
Okuno chuckled and nodded not at me, but at the woman at my side. "Well, it   
did work out." He patted her on the shoulder. "You're still a household name, Kaioh,  
even if you don't want to be."  
  
My eyes lowered at him in annoyance. "You mean to tell me you knew her this   
ENTIRE time and never ONCE mentioned that fact to me?!"  
  
Fuki, who had yet to speak a word to me, rolled her gray eyes. "I had Okuno   
write a feature for me early last year and he called her for support, nothing more."  
She flicked a strand of hair from her eyes, and her multitude of silver bracelets  
jangled together. "You don't have to get jealous. Sheesh."  
  
"I'm not jealous," I scoffed, tossing my sandy hair smugly. "Okuno wouldn't   
dare trod on my turf. It's certain death."  
  
We all laughed, perhaps Michiru more than the others. Her smile was radiant,  
so fulfilling... I could just see her happiness sparkle when she laughed. It was   
impossible NOT to love.  
  
My editor shot me a concerned look that only I would recognize, one eyebrow   
arched and his face considerate. I shrugged slightly. I know what he was asking.  
  
He was asking what I was going to do about Michiru.   
  
My answer was that I didn't know.  
  
The night dragged on. Appetizers - Fuki insisted on calling her cucumber   
sandwiches "munchies" - floated around between small groups of minglers while alcoholic  
beverages were consumed in large quantities. I, as the designated driver, drank   
nothing, though the tempting fumes of beer and wine coolers were hard to resist.   
Michiru, who was a bit more bashful than I had expected her to be, followed me silently.  
I introduced her to as many people as I could think of, and she responded politely   
to each introduction, following the "proper" form.   
  
For some reason, it surprised me. She was a social chameleon, working on all  
levels. She could talk to the Art Society high class while talking one-on-one with  
high school freshmen. She could chat with intoxicated journalists while attending   
funerals.  
  
She could put up with me. That was a feat in itself.  
  
It was about midnight when I finally decided to say goodnight. My co-workers  
and friends waved polite good-byes (well, those who weren't smashed did), and I found  
myself walking to the elevators with Michiru on my arm and Okuno behind me. In the   
secluded elevator bay, he shook Michiru's hand politely goodbye.  
  
"If this gal gives you any trouble, Kaioh, I want to hear about it," he stated,  
punching me playfully in the arm as he spoke. "As the bearer of her big, dark secret,  
I think I have the God-given right to know when she's mouthing off. That way, I can   
beat her into submission with a large stick."  
  
I laughed at his antics. "Yeah, you and what army?" I snorted.  
  
Michiru giggled.  
  
She got into the elevator, but Okuno held me back and insisted on hugging me.  
It was an odd experience. I had worked beside and for the man since my first day on the  
paper, but there was something so incredibly foreign about physical contact with him.  
The hug was gentle, sweet, and I couldn't help but feel reams of brotherly love for him.  
  
But it was just that - brotherly. I would never be physically attracted to a   
man the way I was SUPPOSED to be. I knew that for certain.  
  
"She's a keeper," he whispered, loosing me from his bear hug after a long   
moment. "The way you look at her, and the way she looks at you..."  
  
She looks at me...? My eyes blossomed. Did he possibly mean that...that Michiru  
could possibly...? My mind swam.  
  
He grinned down at me. "You wait and see how this turns out, Ten'ou," he told  
me, prodding me toward the still-open elevator and the woman within. "I promise it'll  
be good."  
  
I smiled back at him. "I believe you," I responded.  
  
---  
  
We drove home through the midnight city. The stars and moon shone down on   
my convertible, the silver light warm and refreshing.   
  
The moon, for some reason, was always something warm to me. Most people liked  
sunlight more than moonlight, but for some reason, I didn't enjoy the harshness of the  
day. I liked the night, the silver and whites, the hushed tones of evening.  
  
Michiru said nothing on the ride home. Not that I expected her to. It was late,  
and we were both thoroughly exhausted. Instead of speaking, we listened to the quiet  
hum of the engine as it raced down the road, the sounds and sights of a city deserted.  
  
I pulled gently up in front of her apartment building, and suddenly, I realized  
that the night was over. It was my second evening spent with Kaioh Michiru, and, much  
like last time, I struggled with the reality of letting her go.  
  
She glanced warmly over at me, her blue eyes staring at my face as we sat  
together in my motionless vehicle. "Can I ask you one other thing, Haruka?" she   
questioned quietly, her voice little more than a whisper in the night.  
  
A smile crossed my face. Somehow, it was oddly sweet whenever she asked for   
permission. "If you have one for me to field," I retorted, smirking. "Or are you just  
hankering for me to tell you we're friends again?"  
  
The beauty beside me laughed pleasantly, and then shook her head. "No, but it's  
a similar question," she admitted, crossing her hands in her lap. I nodded, and   
waited for the inevitable.  
  
There was a long moment of silence. Neither of us spoke. My running car purred  
softly in the night.  
  
And then, Michiru smiled. "Haruka, do you care about me?" she finally asked,  
her voice soft and sweet, like music to my ears.  
  
I nodded firmly, a wistful and probably quite goofy smile crossing my face.   
"Hai, Michiru," I responded after a moment. "I care about you more than anything else."  
  
"Good," she replied, her face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.  
She leaned forward, put a hand on one of my cheeks, and gently touched her lips against  
mine. "I'll see you on Monday, then. Good night."  
  
When she climbed out of my car, I was still blinking. I blinked when she got to  
her door, and I blinked after she opened it. I blinked at the door that closed behind  
her, and then I blinked at the empty road in front of me.  
  
And then, reality struck.  
  
Michiru had KISSED ME.  
  
I found myself floating home that night, too.  
  
---  
End Chapter 6.  
--- 


	8. The Beating of Hearts

"Put my heart in your hands..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter VII - "The Beating of Hearts"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
What made a relationship? Was it the whispers in the dark? The softly  
spoken "I love yous" and the heart-felt moments when you were alone with that  
special person? Or was it something more, something substantial, something...  
Magnificent...  
  
I laid in bed all night Saturday, pondering exactly that. Michiru had   
kissed me, sure, but it wasn't that. No, that was just the culmination of all  
those secret thoughts I had toyed with, the culmination of my love in the here  
and now. That was temporary, something smaller.  
  
What I was pondering was all the deja vu. All the things that I felt   
deep within me, the things that I THOUGHT were there. I was wholly aware of my   
attraction to her, my love for her, the passion I felt whenever I was near her.  
I KNEW those feelings, I reveled in those. The things I weren't certain about  
were those things I didn't understand, those constant and annoying naggings that  
consisted of visions. And those visions were almost like memories, to me, things  
I SHOULD have known.  
  
I had blank spots in my memory, blurred places that I could not   
understand. I probably never would. Most of my high school career had forever   
been just one big white blotch in my mind's eye. I could recall my school's   
principal, a strange-looking man who always wore a white lab coat and cackled   
a lot, and - sometimes - the school nurse came to mind, a red-haired woman who  
had always spooked me. That was it. Nothing else remained.  
  
Until I came to Giakiin, at least. From the moment I entered that school,  
I began to fill in patches of my memories. Only these new visions were strange.  
Michiru, Setsuna, and Hotaru haunted them, but I had only just met them. How   
could they be in my memories?  
  
The visions were so many, and so confusing, that I forced myself to   
sit up in bed, grab a sheet of paper, and sketch them out.  
  
First, Hotaru had looked unsettlingly familiar. Okay, that COULD be   
coincidence. Maybe I had seen her at the grocery store or something, and helped  
her pick up a dropped bag of canned noodles. Entirely possible. The same went  
with Michiru; I could have bumped into her on my way to the train station once  
upon a time and happened to remember her. Or I could have seen her solo at a   
concert once, long ago.  
  
But they had made me feel like a mother and a lover. Now THAT was too  
weird.  
  
The same sensation hit me when I was near Setsuna, but I had discovered  
a name to go with the face. I would have sworn up and down to having met her  
before, had I not know better. But I DID know better, and that was the problem.  
  
I should not have known these people.  
  
Meeting Setsuna brought more poignant pictures to the surface of my   
mind. These were not just random little deja vu feelings but actual, physical   
pictures of things that had happened. At least, I assumed they had.  
  
There was a cabin in the woods, with baking pies and children's books  
and everything else that followed those lines.  
  
There was an explosion in the sky, a bolt of light as a helicopter   
burst into flame while hovering over Tokyo.  
  
There was the mental image of a pigtailed girl, sparked by Michiru.  
Why had the words "childish and rash" set off the image of a blonde I had never,  
EVER seen?   
  
And spending time with Michiru brought more visions. Visions of watching  
a violin concert at her side, visions of watching her perform with a J-Pop group  
in a packed auditorium, visions of accompanying her to a ball and playing piano  
at her side, standing in a park, alone, and listening to a haunting melody played  
beautifully on a violin... Why?   
  
When I wasn't thinking of her violin, she brought me to grips with   
other memories... Memories of a dark-haired girl sitting on a park bench, a   
pink-haired girl playing on the park's playground, or a bow-headed blonde   
singing her heart out at a bandstand.   
  
Just looking at my apartment window seat made me imagine her hands on   
mine, a gentle adoration in her face as she clasped and unclasped my fingers   
in hers. Glancing at the paintings in my apartment led me to think of a large,  
dark oil-on-canvas piece that was called "The End of the World." And sitting on  
stairs not fifteen feet from that same painting was Michiru in a white dress,  
telling me about the end of the world.  
  
The end...of the world?  
  
Or was it the exploding castle that came to mind when Setsuna mentioned  
the word "disaster?"  
  
And my dreams... Dreams of golden bracelets and navy skirts, dreams  
of golden women attacking smaller, blonde girls. Dreams of injuring others with  
my own hands, others who cared about me, others who willed me to stop. Others  
who looked like Hotaru, like Setsuna. Others who called me Uranus.  
  
...and one more dream, a dream of sitting beside Michiru and driving   
along the seashore, the wind sweeping through my hair as we sped along in my   
yellow car.  
  
The visions plagued me, haunting both my days and my nights. I glanced  
at my list, tucking my pencil reflectively behind my ear. More than ten different  
visions laid before me, each just a bit different and more poignant from the   
first. They flowed gently through my mind, filling up all the blanks that I had  
never been able to fill, making me feel as though I was finally certain about  
my life. Even if they were things I didn't really remember, they were there.   
They were a part of me I couldn't understand.  
  
I set down the pad and pencil and flicked off the bedside lamp. Maybe  
I wasn't meant to understand.  
  
I fell into a fitful and dreamless sleep.  
  
---  
  
Saturday died and Sunday come, and I found myself sinking more and more   
into the mystery of my visions. I spent the day on the Internet, surfing for   
information on not only Michiru, but Setsuna and Hotaru as well.  
  
Though she was only sixteen, Tomoe Hotaru had hundreds of hits for her  
name. Most were in conjunction with her father's work; Souichi was a world-  
renowned scientist, researching the genetic engineering. Early in his daughter's  
life, he presented a high-tech laser to the Board of Trustees at MIT, hoping to  
impress them enough to get a new grant. The laser was meant to pinpoint cancerous  
cells in the human body and totally irradiate them. Unfortunately, the laser   
exploded when it overheated that day, killing almost everyone in the lab. In  
fact, the only two people to live through the accident were the scientist and  
his daughter, who was three years old at the time.  
  
Tomoe Souichi was also named as the founder of Mugen Gakuen High School.  
I blinked at that article. I had attended that school and NEVER heard of a   
Professor Tomoe. At least, I didn't THINK -  
  
A man standing in a white lab coat flooded my vision. One eye was covered  
with a metal star as he laughed, his hands raised into the air.  
  
Goosebumps overtook my bared arms, and I shuddered. Was THAT the man who  
fathered Hotaru? No, it couldn't have been. Hotaru was a dear, sweet girl, all  
innocence and kindness. Her father couldn't be some sort of psychopath! It wasn't  
possible.  
  
Meiou Setsuna had few hits. She was virtually unknown on the whole. The  
only information I could find on her was from her nursing school, and that data  
was four or five years old. According to her profile at her college, she was   
about my age. Her family members and hometown were listed as "unknown," and her  
hobbies and interests had been left blank. She obviously didn't want anyone to  
know much about herself - something I guess I could understand.  
  
As I had expected from the outset, Michiru had more hits on her name   
than I had previously thought the Internet had sites. Every other page was a   
Michiru worship page, praising the young violinist on her many achievements   
and accomplishments. Several had "in-depth" biographies, but those bios left   
much to be desired. They were neither descriptive nor complete; most just   
consisted of her birthdate, hobbies, and various CDs. Nothing more.   
  
It was actually an article from the Chicago Tribune, a popular American  
paper, that gave me the most information on her. "A household name at sixteen,"   
read the headline, and - though I struggled with the majority of the complicated  
English words - I managed to catch the meaning of the article fairly well.  
  
Michiru was a normal girl, raised by two very successful parents. No one  
had expected her to be as good at violin as she was, so at the age of ten she   
was sent to a prestigious American violin camp in upstate New York. She obliterated  
every other student there; it was as though her talent soared more and more with  
each scratch of her bow across the strings.  
  
Her first CD was released at the age of thirteen, with two more following  
that very year. I skimmed over the next few paragraphs; they were mostly about  
her concerts, and a lot of the information consisted of words I couldn't read. I  
cursed myself for not caring more about the English language, considering the   
fact that such an annoying tongue was just about EVERYWHERE in the universe.  
  
It wasn't until the last paragraph that I found my eyes nearly popping  
out of my head and my left eyebrow twitching. "Michiru Kaioh is currently in   
her first year of high school at Mugen Academy in downtown Tokyo," I read aloud,  
my heart skipping a beat. I moved to check the press date on the article. It had  
been published in 1995, the very same year that I was a first-year at Mugen Gakuen.  
  
I clicked on the link at the bottom of the screen, which was entitled   
"Candid Shots and Glamour Poses." A screen of badly scanned newspaper and magazine  
pictures popped up, all with goofy captions. None of them were journalistically   
sound, either, I noted with a snort. Someone needed to learn how to write.  
  
Sifting through the photos proved quite distracting. Every other picture  
was a lovely portrait of Michiru, a picture I would love to print and hang on my  
wall. In one, she stood on a stage with the Three Lights, a long white dress   
hugging her form as she took a final bow. In another, she stood in a small wading  
pond, wearing her school uniform. She looked so placid... I felt like I was   
disturbing her by even looking at the photo.  
  
It wasn't until I reached the very last picture on the page that I felt  
my heart begin to race and my hands grow sweaty. The last picture was a larger   
image, and I imagined that it had been taken personally by the fan that had built  
the site; it wasn't as grainy and hard-to-make-out as the others.   
  
In the middle of the photo stood Michiru, garbed in a pink and quite   
ruffly dress, her violin perfect poised as she played through one song or   
another. Near her, sitting at a piano, was what appeared to be a young man, his   
sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes as he accompanied her.  
  
The caption read: "Michiru plays violin at the exchange student ball (and  
I was there! ^__^v) with some guy named Haruka Ten'ou."  
  
---  
  
My mind rushed over, under, and through, searching desperately for   
answers that I was fairly certain I would never find. Not only had Michiru attended  
my high school - the school that Hotaru's father had founded - but she and I had  
played together on at least one occasion! Beyond that, I had never to my knowledge  
served as ANYONE'S accompanist, let alone the accompanist of one Kaioh Michiru.  
Something in the equation smelled, and I didn't like the scent. Not one bit.  
  
But as confused as I was, I found myself very relieved at the same time.  
It was as though my questions were finally coming to fruition in the best way   
possible. I had known Michiru all along - at least, to some extent - and just  
had forgotten. All my funny feelings were based off past experience after all,  
it was just the trauma of my sister's death pushing those fonder memories away.  
  
...or was it? I honestly had no answer.  
  
I decided that I needed a break from thinking, and settled myself down  
in front of the television. I could still catch the early afternoon news before  
flicking to some meaningless made-for-TV movie and just turning into a total  
couch potato. I even went as far as to make myself popcorn, and then plopped down,  
ready to watch.  
  
My first stop was the big, national news network. A smiling, cheeky   
news anchor beamed at me. "Today's top story at noon," she grinned, her bright   
eyes shining, "is Chiba Usagi's surge ahead in the race for Prime Minister. As you  
may know, Chiba-san is the both the youngest candidate for the office in history  
and the first female to make it past the primaries. The twenty-two year old had  
great things to say about her race."  
  
A beautiful blonde woman popped onto the screen. She was wearing a tight  
and yet casual pink business suit. In her arms was not a "Vote for Chiba" sign but  
a small child, most likely less than a year old. "I'm glad that the people are   
stepping forward and voting for the person they believe in," stated the politician,  
juggling her daughter as she leaned into the microphone. "It's time that we stopped  
voting for the old big-wigs who think they know what's best for Japan's families  
and started taking stock in families themselves. Of course, I will never have   
everyone on my side - " She smiled sweetly at the thought. " - but it never hurts  
knowing that you have someone who understands."  
  
I found myself blinking at the screen long after the political story had  
given way to a brief weather report. Chiba Usagi...? Why did the blonde on the   
screen remind me of a free-spirited teen with funny odangos in her hair? And why   
had her pigtailed child look so familiar?  
  
Seizing the remote, I flipped to another news station.  
  
"Mizuno Ami, twenty-two, has worked for years in an attempt to mimic low-  
gravity situations on Earth," stated a balding newsman blandly as a news reel   
rolled behind him. A woman with short, chic blue hair and bright blue eyes stepped  
onto a podium and shook hands with several lab-coat wearing men. "She becomes  
one of very few women to win the Nobel Prize for Physics. The United States has   
high hopes for her program, saying that it would work well with NASA."  
  
A swimming pool came to mind, a pool in which I laid on the diving board  
and watched two women - one with short, blue hair, and the other with aqua waves -  
race across the water.  
  
I flicked the channel button.  
  
"I was really honored to receive such homage for my work at the Shrine,"   
a raven-haired miko was saying, holding a broom in front of her as she spoke into  
the microphone. A raven was perched on her shoulder as she spoke. "I didn't think  
that it was enough to be recognized as 'Someone You Should Know,' but I'm glad  
that my work is appreciated."  
  
The picture went back to a young, hip-looking male newscaster, who was   
perched on the edge of his news desk. "And that, my friends, is why shrine maiden  
Hino Rei is 'Someone You Should Know.'"  
  
She was soaking wet, standing in an empty lot. Rain poured down around her  
as she watched a young man with shaggy hair run away. I handed her my umbrella,  
smiled sadly, and followed him out of the lot, feeling her eyes on me the entire   
way.  
  
Channel up.  
  
A merry little jingle played as a brunette with a high ponytail pulled a   
cake out of an oven. The picture shimmered to the same woman slicing scallions into  
tiny pieces before sprinkling them atop some sort of dip. Another video clip   
dropped down onto that one. This time, the brunette was rolling out some sort of   
dough into a circle. "Cooking With Kino Makoto!" read the title as it zipped onto  
the screen, the green and pink letters almost blinding.  
  
I smiled at the brunette, stooping down on the ground to tie my scarf   
around her hand. I had been careless on my bike, again, and she had barely managed  
to save the life of her ditzy blonde friend. Lucky for her, the scratch wouldn't  
scar...too badly, at least.  
  
I flipped the channel once again.  
  
A blonde stood in the middle of some sort of studio stage. In her long   
hair was a ridiculous red bow, but it almost matched with her equally ridiculous   
navy flared jeans and skin-tight orange halter top. "Today, we interview sexy   
grandmothers who seduce younger men! Give it up for the Aino Minako Show!"  
  
I smiled at her as she handed me a stuffed animal of some sort and jetted  
off.  
  
I turned off the TV and threw the remote at the wall in frustration. Why?!  
Why did MORE visions plague me?!  
  
And why, in my mind, could I see all five of those young women as teens,   
standing high on a pet store windowsill and announcing themselves as the Sailor   
Team?!  
  
---  
  
I tried to remain cool, calm, and collected for the rest of my Sunday,  
but it was hard to. Between discovering that Michiru and I were classmates and   
possibly friends in high school and seeing video clips of various women that   
I thought I should know.... Well, it was disconcerting, I could easily say that  
much.  
  
Monday morning was full of sunshine and warmth, just as the last few days  
had been. I had yet to decide whether or not I liked the Indian summer that had   
come to greet Tokyo, but I managed to ignore the weather and walk into the locker  
room, completely undetected.  
  
When it came to my visions, memories, and other things, my mind was still  
a complete and total blur. I didn't know what to think about all that, and I could  
admit that.  
  
When it came to Kaioh Michiru, however, my mind was made up. I could no   
longer stand the thought of loving her in silence, especially after the soft,   
gentle kiss we had shared. Perhaps Michiru was haunting my past, but living a   
life without her would bring about a haunting future. A future without real love,  
real belonging. I didn't like the thought of such a future.   
  
I didn't like the thought of living without her.  
  
My first period of gym that day went without a hitch. We were in the midst  
of our basketball unit, so I had the simple task of teaching them how to dribble,  
shoot, and block. Most the girls already knew how to play the sport, and those   
who didn't learned quickly.  
  
I watched them play three-on-three matches dully, not really caring what  
happened. As long as there wasn't blood, I was happy as a clam. My mind focused on  
what I would say to Michiru that day at lunch.  
  
The reason I decided on lunch as the perfect time to breech such a delicate  
topic was that I could have plenty of chances to escape if things started going   
downhill. I didn't particularly want to be an escapist, but that was my nature.   
I needed to have the opportunity to run away, just in case.  
  
What to say was another story. I couldn't use the typical "I'm attracted   
to you scenario" on her, because we were both females. We were tempted by society's  
forbidden fruit, an apple so dangerous that we, like Adam and Eve before us, could  
find ourselves ostracized in the blink of an eye. And maybe popular society wasn't  
Eden, but in this world, it's close enough.  
  
I couldn't just seize her in a passionate kiss and explain it away later.  
No. I had to sit her down and rationally tell her everything. Both about how much  
I loved her and about all the strange little flashes I had, flashes where I pictured  
her and I as old friends. Her comment at the funeral had led me to believe that   
she was having the same kinds of visions.  
  
Now, it was time for me to bite the bullet and prove that.  
  
I dismissed my class five minutes earlier than normal and followed them   
down to the locker room, changing hastily into my "street" clothes of khakis and  
a sweater. I look so...feminine, I thought to myself as I straightened my shaggy  
hair in a bathroom mirror. Is this really the Haruka who comes out when I'm not   
pretending? A gorgeous woman with such soulful gray-blue eyes?  
  
The bell rang, and I found myself walking down the hallway to the   
cafeteria.  
  
Now, or never, I repeated in my head, the mantra firm and true.  
  
I had to tell Michiru now..... And if I didn't, I never would.  
  
---  
  
She sat alone in the teacher's area of the cafeteria, her hair pulled back  
into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She was bent over both a Caesar salad   
and a copy of that morning's "Tokyo Daily," and I didn't doubt the fact she was   
busily reading. Part of me feared even bothering the aqua-haired beauty that   
sat before me, afraid of what might happen if I disturbed her peace and happiness.  
  
Now or never, I reminded myself firmly, my hands in my back pockets as   
I walked toward the table. Tell her now, or don't ever. Bite the bullet, or take  
the hit.  
  
Did I dare?  
  
"Ohayo, Michiru," I greeted the young woman at the table, moving to sit  
across from her. Hadn't I read somewhere that men would rather sit across from the  
people they want to talk to, and females sit beside them? Sometimes, I couldn't help  
but wonder how much of my "pretending" was really actually my personality...  
  
She glanced up from the paper, looked into my eyes, and smiled. "Oh,   
Haruka!" she responded, folding shut the paper as she spoke. "I'm glad you're here!  
I was wondering if you'd want to get an early dinner after work tomorrow and then  
join me at this literary conference I'm going to. I think that..." She trailed off  
suddenly, her face turning concerned. "Are you alright, Haruka?" she questioned,   
cocking her head slightly to one side. "You look distracted, like something is   
wrong..."  
  
The lump in my throat began to choke me, so I swallowed my fear and nodded  
solemnly. "I think we should talk, Michiru," I told her, my voice as steady as I   
could force it to be. "There are things I've been meaning to say to you, and if  
I wait any longer, I don't think I'll be able to say them at all."  
  
Her face turned pale, and she nodded her assent. "Go right ahead," she   
replied, smiling weakly. "I'm certain that, whatever it is that plagues you, it  
won't end up being too bad."  
  
Not too bad, I snorted inwardly. Yeah, right.   
  
I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes. It was time.  
  
"Michiru! Haruka!" squealed a voice, and I grimaced with all my might.   
Of all the horrible times for Megumi to burst in on our conversations... The   
redhead plopped into the chair beside Michiru and grinned maniacally at the both of  
us. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I can't WAIT to tell you what just happened  
in my English class!"  
  
Sighing, I cupped my chin in a hand. "No, you're not interrupting at ALL,"  
I retorted, the sarcasm biting but still going undetected by the Japanese teacher.  
"You go right ahead."  
  
And, much like she had a habit of doing, Megumi went right ahead.  
  
---  
  
I tried the rest of the day to find a chance to talk to Michiru, but it   
seemed as though the same fate that allowed me to meet her was a fickle and humor-  
filled fate. Because every time I looked for her, something - or someone - stood  
in the way, making my life just a ball of angst and annoyance.  
  
Seventh period in my schedule was a free period, and so I spent the time  
wandering around the building in hopes of seeing Michiru. Her seventh period   
wasn't free but a tutorial class, and my optimistic hope was, of course, that she  
would be able to take a break from her students to speak with me.  
  
I peeked my head into the music room and glanced around, only to see a  
congregation of about twenty violin players sitting in the orchestral risers.  
Michiru stood before them, her back turned to the group as she wrote what looked  
like fingerings on the blackboard.   
  
"Now, I know that some of the higher notes are difficult," she began,   
placing her chalk on the ledge as she started to turn around, "but I think that   
it should be easy enough if you really try..."  
  
My heart sank. Her "tutorial" class was actually a group of beginning   
violin players. Somehow, I should have guessed.  
  
Eighth and ninth periods were, again, my time to teach bored freshman   
girls how to play basketball. And, again, they went without a hitch. I found my   
mind wandering, once again, to Michiru, and what I would have to say and do to   
win her over. Or, more so, what I would have to say and do to NOT sound like a   
total and complete idiot.  
  
As I had before lunch, I rushed to dress back in my street clothes after  
the school day was over. I had never before had so much energy on a Monday,   
something that was both unusual and unnerving. Who would have ever guessed that   
a woman would get me this shaken up?  
  
I searched through the crowds of school girls as a lioness searches the   
savanna for her prey. There, standing outside the front office, was the beautifully  
graceful Kaioh Michiru, my one angel, the woman I would kill to spend forever with.  
She stood alone, her back turned to the hallway, her form so utterly perfect, like  
poetry in motion.  
  
My steps sped up as soon as I spotted her. I HAD to catch her now, to talk  
to her before anyone else did, to take her to some secluded classroom and bare my   
soul. And I had to do it soon, before I lost my will to fight...and lost her as   
part of that.  
  
When I was about three or four steps shy of tapping her on the shoulder,  
Meiou Setsuna stepped out of the office and smiled at Michiru. "Thank you for   
waiting," I heard her say, her smile sweet and kind hearted. "Now, come with me,   
and we can get another first aid kit for your classroom. I just don't know what   
happened to the original one."  
  
They walked away, their backs forever to me, as I stood in the middle of  
a relatively empty hall.  
  
My decision had been made for me.  
  
---  
  
Ringing that doorbell, that night, qualified as the most terrifying thing  
I had ever done in my entire life.  
  
I had done a lot of scary things in my few years, believe it or not, and  
so you would think that ringing a doorbell would be nothing so out of the ordinary  
as to strike fear into my heart. But it did all the same. I was more frightened of  
Michiru's doorbell than the doorbell I rang the day my father died. Seeing my   
mother, grieving for his loss while still furious with me... That paled in   
comparison to what I was about to say to Michiru.  
  
...Michiru...  
  
For the first time in my life, I had waited patiently for this moment to   
come. My trip home from school was calm and relaxing, and I took the time upon   
getting home to enjoy the small things in life, such as opening a week's worth   
of mail, catching up on the world events of the past week and a half... Things  
that my Michiru-induced anxiety had been keeping me from all this time. And it   
FELT relaxing, and reassuring, and wonderful... I was content.  
  
Content in the name of that evening, at least.  
  
So I stood before Michiru's apartment, my finger on the doorbell, a   
bouquet of flowers clutched behind my back. The doorman had been unusually kind,  
probably assuming me to be one of the violinist's many suitors. He let me into   
the building, no questions asked, no arched eyebrows in my direction.  
  
I was thankful for that.  
  
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.   
  
Now or never.  
  
It was almost thirty seconds after I rang the doorbell that Michiru came  
to the door. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair tied up in   
a high ponytail with a red ribbon. Her face lit up upon seeing me, and a genuinely  
beautiful smile crossed her visage when I handed her the flowers.   
  
"Haruka!" she exclaimed, pulling me and the floral arrangement into her   
living room. "If I had known you were coming, I could have cleaned up a little!"   
She gestured to the piles of schoolbooks and papers on her coffee table. "I was   
trying to plan for this conference I'm going to in the winter and you - "  
  
"I'm not staying long," I cut in, my hands clasped behind my back as I   
spoke. She glanced at me, both confused and a bit hurt. I knew I sounded cross,   
maybe even rude, but....   
  
But.......  
  
Now or never, Ten'ou, I cursed myself. Now...or never.  
  
"Michiru," I gulped, my eyes closing with a will of their own, "we need  
to talk about something."  
  
She nodded and said nothing.  
  
---  
End Chapter VII.  
--- 


	9. Ocean and Sky

"Out of all the moments that we leave behind..."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter VIII - "Ocean and Sky"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
We sat down in Michiru's enormous living room, and I found myself   
staring at the placid white ceiling above me. It had to be at least twenty   
feet high, the smooth paint broken only by a few small skylights. The stars   
shone through the panes of glass, smiling down at me in their happy silver way,  
just glad to be part of the universe.   
  
I wish I could have felt that glad. For the first time in as long as  
I could remember, my palms were sweaty. I felt as though my mouth had just   
gone completely dry, as though my body was shaking uncontrollably, and as though  
I was a deer caught in headlights.   
  
Perhaps I was.  
  
She smiled at me, and her smile seemed to bring the light of day into   
an otherwise dimly lit room. "You wanted to talk, Haruka?" she questioned, her  
blue eyes staring intently at me. "Or did you just come here to stare up at   
my ceiling?"  
  
I flushed in embarrassment and lowered my face so I could look her in   
the eye. What a beautiful woman sat before me! Even in blue jeans and a   
sweatshirt, she looked as though she was an angel, stepped right out of Heaven  
to bless my life. I resisted the urge to float back off into Never-Never Land  
and cleared my throat, readying myself for the hardest thing I would ever do.  
  
Readying myself to tell Kaioh Michiru that... I loved her.  
  
"I do have something to talk about," I began, exhaling shakily as   
I gazed at her from across the coffee table. "I was trying to ignore it, but   
I can't. But, Michiru, I'm no good at this kind of thing, so you'll have to   
bear with me."  
  
Her smile faded slightly, as though she had just realized how very  
serious I was. "I understand," she nodded, clasping her hands atop her lap  
as she spoke. "Go ahead. I promise you that, whatever it is, nothing bad will  
come of it."  
  
Easy for her to say.  
  
I sighed, closed my eyes, and resolved myself to do the only thing I   
could: tell the truth. The complete and utter truth, the only truth I knew.  
  
"Since the day I met you, Michiru, strange and wonderful things have   
been happening to me. Every time I look at you, my heart races and my mind   
struggles to catch up. You have some sort of... Some sort of POWER over me,  
Michiru, and I can never quite place my finger on it."  
  
There was no visible change in her expression.  
  
"I mean, we've had a lot of fun together, right? Like when we ditched  
the Shakespearean play and ended up caught in the rain, or when we went to the   
concert and the party... Even at the funeral, I couldn't help but be amazingly  
happy. You just...have the effect on me."  
  
Okay, now there was a change. She beamed at me, absolutely beamed. I   
couldn't even remember the last time anyone - family, friend, or otherwise -   
had ever smiled so widely in response to something I had said.  
  
But the smile would fade, I knew it. Because I had gotten past the   
easy part, past the part about how much I enjoy her company, but now...  
  
Now or never, I had to breach the "L" word.  
  
I leaned back, gulped down the lump in my throat, and willed myself   
to continue. "Before I met you, Michiru," I informed her, my voice beginning  
to waver dangerously, "I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't know where I was   
going or had been, and I really didn't care if I found out or not. But you   
changed all that. Single-handedly, you've touched my life and have managed to  
teach me exactly what I want. Exactly what I need in my soul."  
  
I sighed. "I don't know what you're going to say to all this," I   
lamented, closing my gray-green eyes so that I wouldn't have to see her   
reaction, "but I don't particularly care. This is something I have to do,   
before my entire self just...implodes. Because, as blurry as my mind is on   
some things, this one thing is completely and totally clear."  
  
Here it was. The moment of truth. My fists tightened upon my thighs,  
and I could feel my heart start to race. It felt as though the pounding in my   
chest and ears would never stop but would keep going until I exploded.  
  
"I love you, Michiru."  
  
Silence. Complete, total, and utter silence. A silence that not even   
I could explain. Nothing moved, and nothing sounded except the throbbing of my  
own heart. I imagined that it was probably loud enough for Michiru to hear,   
even though she was sitting halfway across the room. I was that nervous.  
  
Then, I heard it. The soft sound of weight shifting, of fabrics rubbing  
together, and the scuffing of footfalls on carpeting. I felt my hope take a   
swan dive. She was getting up to show me to the door, wasn't she? She knew what  
the implications of my words were, what it meant for me to love her. She could  
guess at that much. And, if she WAS getting up to show me the door, that meant  
I had lost. My attempt had been in vain, and -   
  
"You can open your eyes, Haruka," spoke a voice, and I was suddenly   
cognizant of a warm body sitting beside me on the couch. "I'm not going to hit  
you or anything of the sort."  
  
Michiru chuckled gaily and brushed a strand of wavy hair from her blue  
eyes as I peeked one and then both eyes open. She had moved to sit next to me  
on the couch, her slipper-clad feet resting on the very edge of the coffee   
table as she cocked her head to one side and smiled at me.   
  
"Haruka, do you ever get the feeling that we should know one another?"  
she asked cautiously, her smile both hopeful and wistful at the exact same   
time. "Do you ever wonder if we've met before, in some other place and time,  
and that we were more than just co-workers who went out once or twice?"  
  
The lump in my throat was back, and it took all my willpower to force  
it away. "Y-yes," I stammered, a bit unsure what more to say. "I get these  
visions, like deja vu flashes, and they always feel like they're pieces of   
moments that I've known before. Like - "  
  
"The explosion of a helicopter, sitting on stairs and discussing a   
painting, riding along the coast in your convertible." I must have registered  
some shock on my face, because she nodded curtly, her smile washing from her   
face as she did so. "I, too, get these visions. And other visions, too, when  
I see certain other people and places."  
  
She rose slowly from the couch and walked across the carpeting a   
few steps, toward the hallway that led to her bedroom. "It sometimes feels as  
though I have hazy moments in my mind, like maybe... Maybe I've forgotten   
important parts of my past." She turned around to glance at me, her blue eyes  
meeting mine meaningfully. It sent a shiver down my spine, hearing her talk   
about the same things I had felt for so long. Perhaps there was still a chance  
that everything that had gone on wasn't just a strange dream.  
  
"And I don't know why you bring back these feelings I shouldn't know  
about," she stated plainly, "but I want to show you something."  
  
She began to stride down the hallway that lead to the bedroom, and it  
was all I could do to follow her numbly. Had she really felt all those things   
I had felt? She described just a few of the visions that I had experienced in   
my time knowing her.  
  
What was going on? My mind searched blindly for explanations, but   
found none. Could it be that, perhaps, we were classmates from Mugen Gakuen  
and just had never noticed this fact? Or maybe something terrible happened to   
us on a class trip or something and we had both suffered memory loss due to   
our traumatic experience. But wasn't the hole in my consciousness too large to   
be caused by just one single event?  
  
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't notice Michiru   
flicking on her bedroom light and walking into the room. I probably wouldn't   
have come out of my pondering, actually, had I not seen what was hanging on   
the far wall of her room.  
  
It was a large painting, taking up nearly the span of the entire wall.  
Most the colors were variances on gray, black, and brown, with the background  
made of a blazing red. A city, dark and stony, stood on the brink of disaster,  
a great gray sea rising behind it, ready to swallow it up without warning.   
The sky was a fiery red, broken only by the blazing darkness of a black sun.  
  
I swallowed. Hard. Before me was "The End of the World" by Kaioh   
Michiru... A painting I had only seen in my dreams.  
  
"I don't know when I painted this, Haruka," she admitted, her hands in  
her back pockets as she spoke, "and I honestly don't know what possessed me to   
hang it here. But there's something about it..."  
  
"'There's a girl at my school who wants to ride with you in your   
convertible...even though she's a girl,'" I quoted, staring blankly at the   
painting. I felt Michiru's eyes on me, and I turned to face her. "You really   
meant yourself when you said that, didn't you?"  
  
She smiled bashfully and nodded. "I don't remember saying it," she   
admitted softly, "but I'm sure I did." I could see her swallow as she gazed  
up at me. "If you love me, Haruka, then I love you, too."  
  
I nodded and then, not knowing what else I really could do, I stooped  
down and touched my lips to hers.  
  
And somewhere, somewhere in the very back of my mind, I could feel   
a long-hidden part of me begin to open up.  
  
---  
  
She sat up in bed, straight up, clutching the sheets to her lithe   
form as she gasped for breath. She had been happily dreaming when, out of   
nowhere, her mind had been flooded with a million thoughts and memories, things  
she couldn't remember and yet, things she could. It frightened her.  
  
Rising to her feet, she padded across the lamp-lit room and moved to   
stand before the vanity. Purple eyes, slightly bloodshot, stared back at her.  
Dark tresses, neither black nor purple, hung listlessly to her shoulders. She  
stared at her reflection, stared intently at the glowing symbol on her   
forehead.  
  
It was not a foreign purple mark. She recognized it immediately, both  
from her astronomy class and from her memory. Her memory? She did a double   
take. How could she remember something that she had never seen before.  
  
There was a flash of light and the marking disappeared, and she   
suddenly felt as though a long-hidden part of her had just awakened. In her   
mind's eye, she saw a pink-haired girl running after a hat, saw her father   
standing behind a pane of glass and speaking to her, saw herself as a grown  
woman with black tresses that had no end. She could remember dying at the hands  
of the ones she loved, all in the name of a better tomorrow, and being   
reawakened by a blonde, odango-headed princess.  
  
Tomoe Hotaru smiled at her reflection, her eyes sparkling.  
  
For, though the symbol of the planet Saturn had disappeared, the   
spirit of that planet's warrior had just been reawakened.  
  
---  
  
She paused in her typing, staring blankly into the bright monitor, the  
only thing lighting the room. What was that dim red light that was reflecting   
onto her medical reports? She didn't even OWN a red light of any sort!  
  
The light flashed and died, and she smiled knowingly. "So, they finally  
found each other again," she thought to herself, her fingers resting on the  
keyboard. She chuckled inwardly. "It's almost too bad I couldn't have just   
told them," she mused, pursing pink lips. "After all, all of us - Moon,   
Mercury, Mars, Venus, Saturn, and I - had to wait on their silly memories." She  
shrugged. "Ah well. THIS is when things start getting interesting."  
  
Laughing softly to herself, Meiou Setsuna - the Sailor Soldier of   
Pluto - returned to her work.  
  
---  
  
I awoke groggily on Tuesday morning to the sound of a very unfamiliar   
alarm clock. Groaning, I rolled over in bed, not really wanting to get up.   
Why should I? My teaching didn't start until the late morning, anyway, so five  
more minutes wouldn't kill me...  
  
Something warm made contact with my body, and the alarm clock suddenly  
shut off. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself blinking incoherently.   
A warm arm? An unfamiliar alarm clock? Oh, shit!  
  
I sat straight up in bed, and - upon taking a quick look at myself -   
burrowed into the sheets a second time. A familiar chuckle floated through the  
bedroom, and a robe-clad Michiru smiled down at me. "I have to get ready for  
this thing called a full-time job," she quipped, her blue eyes friendly as   
she peered down at my sheet-clad form. "You can sleep in if you'd like. I'm   
sure your car is still safely sequestered in the parking garage."  
  
Swallowing the funny taste in my mouth, I watched her stride out of the  
bedroom and down the hall, no doubt on her way to the bathroom. As soon as the  
door clicked shut, I scrambled out of the unfamiliar bed and hurried to get  
my clothing.   
  
What had happened? My mind was a blur. The last thing I could really  
remember was kissing Michiru and feeling part of my mind start to open up.  
The rest of the night was a blur, a blur of passion and emotions never before  
known to me, a blur of absolute bliss.  
  
The rest of my memories, however, were NOT a blur, and that was the   
frightening part. I tugged on my pants as quickly as I could, a dull and sick  
feeling taking over my body as my mind focused on memories I had never before  
possessed. I could remember every moment of a life I had never cared for,   
every battle as a soldier.  
  
Maybe my name was Ten'ou Haruka, but I was also that pretty sailor-  
suited soldier for love and justice, Sailor Uranus. I was reborn of the Silver  
Millennium, sent to Earth to protect it, should evil ever resurface. I was   
the protector of a princess - Princess Serenity, who walked the world under  
the mortal name of Tsukino Usagi - and had a destiny bigger than my wildest   
dreams. I had fought to kill Mistress Nine and Pharaoh 90, and had almost   
failed. I had found the Messiah, Sailor Moon. I had raised the reborn Sailor  
Saturn almost as my own, and battled Sailor Galaxia. I had killed Saturn and  
Pluto in an attempt to overcome the evil of that same senshi, but I had   
lost my life in the effort.  
  
And so had Michiru. Kaioh Michiru. My love...and my partner in war,  
Sailor Neptune.  
  
"How the Hell can I really be Sailor Uranus?" I gaped at myself, my   
fingers struggling with the buttons of my dress shirt. "I'm not a Sailor   
Senshi! I'm journalist and a gym teacher! I'm meant to do those things! SIMPLE  
things! I... I can't..." I plopped down on the edge of Michiru's bed, "The  
End of the World" at my back as I buried my head in my hands.  
  
In all my years, I had never imagined that all my hidden memories would  
bring such a realization: the realization that I was a soldier. A Sailor   
Soldier.  
  
"Haruka?" questioned a familiar voice from the doorway, and I raised  
my head to see Michiru, clad only in a towel, standing before me. "Are you   
alright?"  
  
I shook my head curtly, climbing to my feet as quickly as I could   
manage. "No, Michiru, I'm not." She stared blankly at me, a foreign nervousness  
to her face as I rose and gathered my wallet and car keys from her bedside   
table. "I realize now, more than ever, exactly what all the memories I lost  
meant. It meant a life I don't want to be part of." I sighed, not needing to   
look at her face to see the surprise and disappointment that registered across  
her pale cheeks. "I hated it, Michiru. I hated being Sailor Uranus, and I   
hated all the things that that life meant. I'm not going back. Not when I   
have a choice."  
  
Pushing past her, I started down the hallway, only to hear her shaking,  
wavering voice behind me. "Please, Haruka!" she called, her footsteps thumping  
across the carpeting as she followed me toward the door to her apartment.   
"Understand! Perhaps we were given an unfair fate, one we didn't want, but we  
were given each other at the same time! Isn't that worth the pain of being a   
senshi, Haruka? Aren't wonderful moments - moments like last night - worth that  
sorrow and heartbreak?"  
  
I paused, my hand on the doorknob. I remembered smiling down at a   
ten-year-old Hotaru and telling her that Michiru and I were happiest with our  
life as it was right then, right after the Sailor Starlights had returned to   
their distant star.  
  
Was it true? Or had I lied to the child, afraid to tell her all the   
hurt and hatred I had felt as a Sailor Senshi?  
  
"No, Michiru," I told her, staring at the wood grain of her door.   
"Nothing is worth something as terrible as that."  
  
The close shut loudly behind me.  
  
---  
  
I avoided Michiru at work that day. I had no reason to see or talk to   
her, not after everything I had been through. Lunch was spent in a corner,   
alone, quite reminiscent of my high school days.  
  
Well, my high school days before I met Michiru. She had been a godsend  
for the entirety of our time at Mugen Gakuen, someone for me to talk with, hold,  
and love. I wondered over my egg salad and Diet Coke exactly what had gone on   
during that year of school. Why had I been chosen as the soldier of the skies?  
Why couldn't I have just been normal, instead of a solider? Why was Michiru  
the soldier of the sea? Why couldn't we just have fallen in love like a normal  
couple, left alone to have our life - and our love - in peace?  
  
The ocean and the sky. She was the sea, I was the air. I remembered a   
song I had once heard, a song about wanting to become the wind and run away   
from destiny. How did it go? I could hardly remember, but one line stood out   
in my befuddled, aching mind.  
  
"From that day onward, it became a distant road that a fighter must   
tread."  
  
A distant road, long and far from me.  
  
I could escape my destiny. I only had three weeks left at my temporary   
job, and it would be so easy to disappear from the high school and never come   
back. Could I do it?  
  
Or did I take Michiru with me, and stay with that person I loved?  
  
There was no answer.  
  
---  
  
I strode into the gym for my last period of the day, both relieved and  
apprehensive at the same time. It had been a long day, and my stomach was tying  
itself in knots again and again, keeping me from any sense of normalcy. I was   
a solider, for God's sake! And the woman I love... She had been there all along,  
waiting for me.  
  
It wasn't until I was almost done explaining the rules and regulations  
of badminton to my class when I saw a familiar head of aqua hair near the top of  
the risers, watching me. There, in her sweater-and-khakis clad glory was Kaioh  
Michiru, her hands folded over her knees as she listened to me speak to my class.  
I paled and tore my eyes from her, looking back to the girls in front of me. My  
mind was made up. I couldn't cope with it. Not now. Not ever.  
  
The students split off and I found myself standing beside the gymnasium  
risers, staring out at my busy gym students and watching them chase after their   
shuttlecocks idly.  
  
A hand touched my shoulder, and I flinched without trying to. I sighed  
and busied myself with looking over my class roisters, not looking up at the  
young woman beside me. The hand refused to budge, though, and I could feel my   
heart begin to pick up pace.  
  
Michiru. Everything was always Michiru.  
  
"You offered to let me come and sit in on one of your gym classes," she  
told me softly, her voice gentle and just a little bit nervous. "So I thought   
I would come. After all, you've been avoiding me. When else would I be able to   
corner you so well?"  
  
She chuckled slightly, and I couldn't help but smile. My eyes drifted  
from my student list toward her face, and I found myself gazing into her bright  
blue eyes. They were slightly bloodshot, and I didn't need to ask to know that   
she had been crying sometime that day. I pursed my lips together. "What is it  
you want to talk to me about?" I asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
She sighed, all signs of a smile wiping away from her face. "Do you   
remember when I first found you, Haruka?" she questioned cautiously, almost   
afraid to ask such a question. "When we first met, at your track meet, so many  
years ago?"  
  
The wheels of my mind started turning, and I remembered. She stood   
before me, armed with a sketchbook, and asked politely if she could draw me.  
And I? I said no and rushed away, informing her that I had no interest in   
something like that.  
  
What was she getting at...?  
  
"You ran, Haruka. You tried desperately to escape the destiny you were  
given, and you tried to run away, but you couldn't. You couldn't escape what you  
were given." She moved to stand in front of me and stand eye-to-eye with me, her  
blue eyes looking me over carefully. "And maybe there were terrible things,   
Haruka. I'm not lying about that. But I want you to think of all the good things  
that happened, too. The happy moments. The days when Usagi amused us with her   
antics, or the times with Hotaru in our house. Think of those, Haruka. And try  
to tell me that all those wonderful things don't outweigh the few bad moments,  
here and there."  
  
I gulped down the lump in my throat, staring at her. Could she be right?  
I remembered all the days of joy, the times riding in my convertible and teasing  
the younger senshi, the moments when everything seemed alright. I found myself  
smiling. Those things... They might not replace the pain, but weren't they   
worth the pain?  
  
"Do you care about me?" I questioned of the young woman, reaching down  
to grasp one of her hands in mine. "Do you really care that much?"  
  
She smiled, teary-eyed. "I lost you once, Ten'ou Haruka. I lost my   
memories and I lost you with them. I'm not willing to lose you a second time."  
  
I leaned down and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek, not really caring  
if my students saw or not.   
  
"What do you say?" I asked with a smile, my hand still squeezed in   
hers. "Am I allowed to take a second chance for all this?"  
  
The answer was a simple thing.  
  
---  
End Chapter VIII.  
--- 


	10. A Simple Thing

"After all the clouds go by, the simple things remain."  
  
--------------  
A Simple Thing  
Chapter IX - "The Simple Things"  
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler  
--------------  
  
I woke up the next morning - and every morning thereafter - with a   
sense of belonging I had never thought I would find anywhere. I suppose my fears  
and dread had been realized by my discovery, but so had my dreams and hopes. I   
finally found a woman I loved, and I could be happy like that.  
  
Michiru and I began to see a lot more of each other. It surprised no one.  
A few of my co-workers at the paper, catching me on the subway or seeing me in the  
supermarket, kidded that I was on my way to being an old married man. I assured  
them that I was a terminal bachelor; I wouldn't let her have her way with me. The  
truth, of course, was that Michiru and I were closer than any normal couple. We  
had fought together. We had died together. What we had transcended anything the   
boys from the paper could even imagine.  
  
I liked it like that.  
  
Even Megumi seemed comfortable - more than that, relieved - when she   
saw the two of us spending so much of our free hours together. "I figured you   
two were close, somehow," chuckled the redheaded teacher with a grin. "You just   
needed to find one another."  
  
Michiru and I shared a secret smile. How right she was.  
  
Unfortunately, however, my six weeks of teaching was drawing to a close.  
What could I do, other than leave Giakiin High School and go back to the paper?  
Okuno assured me that there would be a desk and a beat waiting for me, but did  
I want to leave? There was something about teaching that made me smile every   
time. I wasn't sure I wanted to lose that.  
  
My last day of school was fast upon me, and I found myself eating lunch  
not only with Michiru and Megumi, but with Meiou Setsuna as well. The green-haired  
nurse had said she "wanted a private word" with me before sitting down at the   
table, and... Who was I to say no?  
  
"Back to the paper after tomorrow?" questioned Megumi merrily, chomping  
down on a slice of cheese pizza. I didn't look up from the grade sheets I was   
filling out, but I did nod in response, and the redhead frowned. "Then I guess   
they didn't phone you about the job, did they?"  
  
My ears perked up, and my left eyebrow arched as I glanced up from the   
bubble-form sheets. "Job?" I repeated, confused.  
  
Michiru sighed and shook her head. "The principal caught both Megumi and  
I last week and told us that Yahii-sensei had a baby girl...and has chosen to   
quit her job and remain at home with the baby." She pursed her pink lips. "The   
way he was talking, I would have assumed that he would give you her position."  
  
"That's how he made it sound," agreed the chipper one with a quick nod.  
"But, if the Department of Schools hasn't contacted you yet, I guess that means  
that you WILL be leaving us and going back to the 'Daily.'" She grinned at the   
school nurse. "Ne, Setsuna-san?"  
  
Setsuna smiled knowingly and shrugged her slender shoulders. In my   
memories, she was the soldier known as Sailor Pluto, but she had never indicated  
such a thing to me. I wondered if she, too, had lost her memories... Or if she   
had them all along. "You never know what tomorrow will bring, Megumi," she told  
the younger woman, sipping her tea as she spoke. "You can't count your chickens  
before they hatch, now can you?"  
  
"Ara?" blinked the redhead, and the three of us laughed. For an English   
teacher, she sure was clueless about American idioms.  
  
Then, the nurse stood and looked pointedly in my direction. "Now,   
Ten'ou-san, may I speak to you in my office?" she asked, her red eyes staring   
at me intently.  
  
I gulped. Something about her gave me the distinct impression that I   
shouldn't dare argue. "Certainly," I agreed, forcing a smile. "I'd be glad to."  
  
But I didn't add the fact that I was also afraid of what our little   
"talk" would bring.  
  
---  
  
"I know that you're wholly unaware of what happened that night, Uranus,"   
the green-haired one addressed me point-blank, "but I think you deserve to know.  
I've watched you from the first, and no one needed to tell me that you were...  
apprehensive."  
  
We sat alone in the nurse's small office, door closed and locked behind   
us. Much as we were during the first meeting, I sat atop the small cot with her,  
legs crossed at the ankles, in her official seat as school nurse. Her manner was   
surprisingly calm and familiar, something I wasn't really prepared for, and I   
wondered just how much she knew...about everything.  
  
"My name, of course, is Meiou Setsuna, but I am also known as Sailor   
Pluto." She smiled at me, her red eyes sparkling brightly. "Of course, you know   
this. You found it out the night you and Kaioh Michiru - Sailor Neptune - found  
each other for the second time. You unlocked everyone's memories, that night,   
including your own."  
  
A lump rose in my throat, once again, and I found myself gaping at the   
woman. "So it wasn't all just a crazy hallucination or something of the sort?" I   
asked, almost afraid of the answer. "I really did have memories that were lost,  
and it was Michiru that recovered them?"  
  
The other woman chuckled at me, as though I was a confused toddler rather  
than a full-grown adult. "I would like to think of it as 'unlocking' them," she  
explained, knitting her fingers together as she spoke. "It's hard to explain,   
but Neo-Queen Serenity decided that our lives would be more peaceful if she   
locked away our memories until her younger self took the throne." She turned   
around for a moment, fishing through the papers on her desk. Then, she pulled   
out a copy of the "Tokyo Daily." The headline was, as all the headlines had been  
for weeks, praising Chiba Usagi on her campaign to the top. "This woman," she   
said, pointing to the picture, "will someday rule the world, and with her - "  
  
"I know, I know, we'll be her private guards as the Sailor Senshi," I cut  
in, not really caring about the reign of that particular blonde-haired woman.  
"But, if they were locked away, how come Michiru and I managed to unlock them,  
or whatever? Why didn't someone else unlock them, like when you talked to Hotaru  
at the beginning of the year?"  
  
Setsuna blanched slightly, as though she was a bit embarrassed. "It's not  
that simple," she specified, swallowing. "It wasn't just you knowing her that   
unlocked them all. Sure, your day-to-day relationship with her helped to start  
us all on the track toward complete comprehension, but it was... Uhm, that is to  
say, when you and her... Ano..."  
  
My face turned bright red, and I could feel my ears start to burn. "So,  
then, THAT'S what did it?" I questioned shyly, as though I was back in the sixth  
grade, introducing myself to all my classmates. "When we...spent that night   
together...it...?"  
  
The school nurse nodded. "Exactly. It opened the door to something none  
of us could control." She smiled slightly and leaned back in her seat, eyes half-  
closed. "Memory is something that no one can fully control. When the neo-queen  
decided to lock everything away from us, she failed to consider the fact that so  
much of memory is sub-conscious. Something happened when you two coupled, something  
that not even I can explain. But, whatever it was, the sub-conscious bond between  
all of us tore through the haze that laid over our memories, and suddenly..."  
  
"...we could see everything." Despite the fact I was still blushing   
terribly, I smiled. "So, then, everyone knows? Usagi, Rei, Ami, Makoto, and   
Minako, too?"  
  
The Senshi of Eternity nodded, a bemused smile replacing the wistful   
one of earlier. "That they do," she responded. "They remember, and they will   
reunite, joining Usagi in her campaign." Her smile faded suddenly. "And, as   
illogical as it sounds in light of everything, it's almost as if..." She trailed  
off, pensive.  
  
"As if...what?" I prompted, confused.  
  
She chuckled at herself. "It's almost as if Serenity intended for you two  
to unlock your memories BEFORE Usagi made it all the way to the throne. Funny,  
ne?"  
  
I nodded and chuckled, too, but in my heart...I knew she was probably   
right.  
  
---  
  
I was just about to skip out the door to pick up Michiru for a date when  
the telephone rang. Normally, when I'm on my way out the door, I avoid answering   
the phone, in case someone obnoxious (or worse, talkative!) is on the other line.  
Still, the harsh shrill of my phone caused me to pause in the foyer, reflective.  
  
Maybe it was the Department of Schools. As much as I hated to admit it,  
a large part of me really wanted to continue teaching. Giakiin was a great   
school, better than either of the high schools I had spent my teen years in, and  
I really didn't want to leave my friends. Maybe Megumi was annoying, but she   
really was a good friend, someone who I could count on to bring a smile to my   
face. Or at least TRY to bring a smile to my face. Setsuna and I had a bond,   
though it was one from thousands of years before we started teaching, but... It  
was something we shared. Together. And Michiru...  
  
Well, no one needed to quiz me to know that I would sell my soul to get  
to spend every day of my adult life by that woman's side. It was a given.  
  
The phone stopped ringing right then, and I sighed. Whoever it was had   
given up on trying to reach me.   
  
I shrugged and opened the door to the hallway, starting out of the   
apartment. It had probably been Okuno, anyway.  
  
---  
  
"So, it's your last day as a schoolmarm, Ten'ou," chuckled my editor  
across the phone lines, his voice warm and friendly in my ear. I had been nearly  
ready to leave the apartment when the phone had rung, and this time - building on  
the hope that maybe it HAD been the Department of Schools on the phone the night  
before - I answered it, only to hear a VERY happy local editor on the other line.  
"How does it feel, huh? You're rid of those snot-nosed brats, so now you can come   
back to a real job!"  
  
I snickered, amused at his words. "You make it sound like I'm teaching  
preschool, Okuno," I retorted, tossing my sandy hair. I was leaning against the  
doorframe between the kitchen and the foyer, watching the television idly. It   
seemed as though Chiba Usagi had won the previous night's Prime Minister race  
by a landslide. "But, seriously, I've enjoyed this. Having the responsibility   
of mentoring tomorrow's leaders, why - "  
  
"You mean you've liked being able to watch Michiru's chest bounce here  
and there!" he cut in, and I flushed. "Come now, Haruka, I know you better than I  
think YOU know yourself! Maybe you'll miss her, but you're a damned good writer.  
You don't belong teach gym class any more than I belong selling shoes." He sighed,  
and I could mentally see him shaking his head. "You need you around here, Haruka.  
The hoopla with Chiba taking the Prime Minister seat is about to get worse.   
Rumor has it that her personal staff is going to be a sorted bunch - that Nobel  
prize chick from a few weeks ago, a cook on public television, a Shinto miko,  
and some talk-show host who's trapped in syndication." There was a pause. He was  
no doubt trying to word something that he didn't understand.   
  
"Big things are going to happen, Haruka. And soon." I smiled as I heard  
him say this; he, after all, had no idea what would happen in the next few years.  
He didn't know that the king and queen would be assassinated without an heir and  
that Usagi - the blonde prime minister, the hope of the nation - would step in   
as their ruler... And, by stepping in, become Neo-Queen Serenity. They didn't   
realize that she, alone, would unite the nation and the world in the name of   
peace, love, and justice. Who could know? Who, besides the neo-queen's personal  
body guards, could know all this?  
  
I smiled. "Big things, yes, but I don't want to be in the center of it   
all," I told him happily. "I'd rather be on the sidelines, doing less and taking  
in more. I've been the 'go-get-'em' kid for way too long. It's time for me to   
tone it down."  
  
He laughed. "Ten'ou Haruka settling down?! Wait until I tell the men here!  
They'll flip!"  
  
"Sure they will." I allowed him the small victory, glancing warily at   
the nearby wall clock. "Look, Okuno, I'm going to be late if you don't let me   
go." I paused, remembering the phone from the night before. "And I'm sorry I   
didn't pick up, yesterday. I was on my way out, and - "  
  
"Yesterday?" he questioned, interrupting me. I could HEAR his brow furrow  
in confusion. "I was busy all day yesterday with the election results. Didn't   
even get to sit down at my desk, except when I phoned the Chiba Headquarters to   
get a post-vote statement." I frowned, and I could hear in his voice that he was  
frowning, too. "Why? Something wrong?"  
  
I shrugged and shook my head, remembering too late that he couldn't see  
any of the motions I was making, anyway. "Nah," I told him, mostly telling the  
truth. "I was just too lazy to get the phone last night, and I figured it would  
have been you."  
  
"Wasn't me," he assured me with a grunt. "Probably just a solicitor.   
They've taken over the phone lines."  
  
I laughed and agreed, but I couldn't help but think that I had missed my   
chance to become a teacher, after all.  
  
---  
  
My last day at Giakiin High School flew by, as though time had suddenly  
sprouted wings, just for the sake of making me feel lousy. I tried my best to   
be happy despite my leaving; after all, hadn't I had an absolutely wonderful time  
at the school? Still, I couldn't help but feel as though sitting in a high school  
gymnasium was where I wanted to be.  
  
At lunch, the Student Council - a rather large group of crazy do-gooders  
with an obscene sense of what is injustice - presented me with a small plaque  
to thank me for all the work I had done for the school. The President, a braid-  
headed girl who had been in one of my classes, gave a short speech that basically  
said that I should stay forever, and that it wasn't fair that the Department  
of Schools didn't let me. I thanked them humbly and accepted the gift, but I   
couldn't help but wonder why I HADN'T been contacted about the job. I mean,   
they needed a teacher. Why not me?  
  
I let it go, and finished up my lunch with Michiru and Megumi in a   
reflective silence.  
  
At the end of the day, after the last bell had rung and the last brave  
students hugged me goodbye, I went down to the locker room to pack up my things.  
Michiru, the dear woman she was, had offered to come along with me and help, but  
I insisted that she go home and let me be. I wanted the time to be alone with  
my thoughts, a chance to sort out all the things I had felt.   
  
I sat down on the splintered wooden bench in front of my faculty locker  
and sighed. How many crazy things had happened since my first day in that very   
room? I had discovered so much about myself and others, and now, I was leaving all  
of it behind. Perhaps I would never forget Giakiin High School, but I would miss  
it.   
  
In only six short weeks, I had become a changed person. Maybe not   
completely - I still dressed like a man when I left the house, and I certainly   
wasn't going to give up my love of sports and women any time soon - but I had   
been changed. I had rediscovered the woman I loved and one of my closest allies,  
and I had made a new friend, besides. Finally, another soul knew about my   
tumultuous life and my lost little sister. Finally, I felt like my life was   
complete...  
  
I didn't want to leave the paper, but if I could leave the paper and   
keep the grand feeling that being a nameless PE teacher at a high school   
brought, it was a price I was willing to pay.  
  
Sighing, I pulled out my duffel bag and started shoving my things into   
it. What did it matter? It was over now.  
  
I was back to being a journalist.  
  
---  
  
"Ten'ou Haruka?"  
  
I was nearly out of the building and on my way to the car when a woman -   
young, pretty, shapely - called my name. She was standing only a few feet from   
the entrance to the school, her hands on her slender hips, her green eyes staring  
me down. Wavy blonde tresses rimmed her face and curled off at her chin and, for  
a brief moment, I wondered if she wasn't some adoring fan of mine from long ago.  
  
Nodding, I stopped in front of her and forced a smile. "That's me," I   
responded, adjusting the strap of my bag as I spoke. "What, are you double-parked  
in front of my car or something?"  
  
She laughed and tossed her golden hair gaily. "Nonsense!" she chortled,  
her voice sounding almost familiar in my ears. "My name is Karimi Kaoru, from  
the Tokyo Department of Schools. We talked on the phone six weeks ago, about your  
substitution for a teacher called Yahii Kae."  
  
My jaw nearly dropped, but I managed to hold my surprise at bay. "Nice  
to speak with you again, Karimi-san." I forced a smile. "Is there some sort of   
follow-up work I need to do, a form I need to fill out?" I glanced at my watch  
and frowned. Michiru and I were supposed to meet Setsuna for tea in twenty   
minutes, and I still had to rush home and shower.  
  
"Actually, no," she responded, pursing her pink lips as she spoke, "but  
I do need to talk to you. I attempted to call last night, but no one picked up,  
and I'm afraid that this is an urgent matter." Green eyes glanced up at me,   
examining my every feature carefully. "Ten'ou-san, I know that you were originally  
reluctant to take this position. But, in asking around, you seem to have become  
quite popular with both the students and the staff of Giakiin High School."  
  
She paused, and I tried to resist my urge to - mentally, at least - jump  
for joy. Could she be offering me the job I so wanted? I really hoped that she   
would. Okuno would be angry, but he would recover from the shock. Setsuna,   
Michiru, and Megumi would all be delighted, as would my students. They hadn't  
liked the idea of their beloved teacher leaving so soon, and it WAS the middle  
of the school year...  
  
"Yahii-san has chosen to stay home with her infant child," continued  
the young woman, and I wondered if she was paying any attention to me at all; it  
seemed like she just wanted to get the job done and go home. "And so, on behalf  
of both the Tokyo Department of Schools and Giakiin High, I am prepared to offer  
you the full-time position of Physical Education Instructor, provided you enroll  
in a local community college of your choice and work at some sort of education   
degree."  
  
I didn't need to think. I didn't need to even bat an eyelash. "Yes," I   
told her with an eager nod. "I'll take the job."  
  
She arched an eyebrow. She had obviously been informed that she was   
to battle me tooth-and-nail, because the surprise in her eyes could have been seen  
in Hiroshima. "Are you SURE?" she blinked, confused.  
  
I smiled and nodded my assent. "Totally and completely positive," I   
replied, starting out the door. "But, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for a previous  
appointment."  
  
Karimi-san just stared, slack-jawed, after me.  
  
---  
  
Both fate and the Tokyo Transit Authority were against me, and - by time  
I got home, parked my car, and rode the bus the twenty-nine blocks from my   
building to Sato Tea - I was already a full hour late for my appointment with  
Michiru and Setsuna. I walked into the crowded cafe to see the aqua-haired   
musician sitting alone in a corner booth, reading that morning's paper.   
  
I cringed. It was going to be ugly.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," I told her, slinking into the booth while still dressed  
in my pair of sweatpants and faded "Ah, Megami-sama!" t-shirt. "I got stuck in   
traffic on the way home, and then the bus I got on had to go and stop on EVERY  
block between my place and here."  
  
Michiru laughed and tossed her wavy hair, putting down the paper. She   
poked at the picture of a grinning Chiba Usagi with her young, pink-haired child.  
"Her ascension to the throne begins soon," she informed me, moving to sip her   
tea gently. "Soon, we'll be called to serve her."  
  
"We have a year or two more of teaching before that happens," I chuckled,  
attempting futilely to flag down a waitress. "After all, Chibi-Usa has to be   
five or six before anything major starts happening."  
  
Michiru nodded and sipped her drink. "So Setsuna told me," she responded,  
oblivious to my comment about more teaching. "She had to leave, by the way. Said   
that she had to - "   
  
Then, just as I was about to order a triple latte with extra whipped   
topping, the love of my life froze in her tracks and blinked at me, incredulous.  
"WHAT did you say?" she roared, nearly causing the waitress to drop her tray.   
"WE - as in BOTH OF US - have more teaching to do?"  
  
"...and hold off on the cinnamon," I finished, waving off the confused   
serving girl. Turning back to the aqua-haired woman in my presence, I smiled   
charmingly. "I got offered Yahii's old job today, right as I left the building,"  
I informed her calmly, as though nothing unusual had happened at all. "Seems that  
the Department of Schools really wants me to stay at Giakiin. So, I accepted."  
  
My angel pursed her lips and glanced dubiously in my direction, confused.  
"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked softly, her voice nearly a whisper. "You're  
a well-known journalist with one of the biggest papers in the world. "Isn't that  
important to you, anymore?"  
  
I considered this, and then shook my head. "Being a teacher at Giakiin  
taught me more than I taught the students," I responded, reaching across the table  
to grip her smaller hand in mine. "Before I started out there, I would have never  
imagined that I had so many memories, locked away inside of me. All the little,  
simple things that ended up mattering - the little memories that made my life  
seem so strange all of a sudden - would have never mattered to the old, battle-  
hardened journalist that I used to be."  
  
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Was there much more to say? "Now,  
I know what matters," I told her, squeezing her hand as I spoke. "You matter.  
Megumi and Setsuna matter. Every student I have ever even spoken to matters. And  
our love matters even more than that."   
  
Michiru cocked her head to one side, as if considering my words. "All  
the simple things matter the most, ne?"  
  
"Exactly," I agreed with her, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the  
lips. "I love you forever, Michiru."  
  
She smiled back at me. "I love you, too."  
  
---  
  
One thousand years from today, a blonde-haired queen will walk into a   
darkened vault, say a few magic words, and forever change the lives of her   
friends.  
  
For Chiba Usagi, a thousand years of pain was too much to endure. And she  
thought that maybe, just maybe, she could erase the pain of her guardian warriors,  
the Sailor Senshi. But, unfortunately, Neo-Queen Serenity - Usagi's ultimate   
form - forgot about one thing.  
  
The simple things.  
  
She had forgotten what could sit on the edge of consciousness, the things  
that could be remembered when all else was forgotten. She had ignored the minor  
little moments that touch everyone's lives. Never would she have thought that   
a single violin song or a doomsday painting would be able to leave such an   
imprint on our souls, and yet...  
  
Glance into the sun, then close your eyes. Maybe you don't exactly   
remember every detail of that orange ball of gas, but there's a spot in your  
vision, a small part of your vision - of YOU - that's changed. Memory is like  
that. You might not make a point to recall a moment, but it changes you. And then,  
you remember it all the same.  
  
Sometimes, you meet a friend. A person who changes your life. And you   
don't think much of her, and then you lose her for some reason. Some reason   
outside of your control. That's it. You let the memories slip away, you let all  
the good things go, and it never once bothers you.  
  
And then, one day, you see her again. Bending over to pick up sheet music.  
And you KNOW. You know that she's more than just a random passer-by. She's the   
person who changed your life. And everything opens up. You remember moments with  
her that you had never tried to recall. Why?  
  
Because she changed you. She changed who you were. Who you ARE.  
  
And, as simple as that is, it can change the entire world.  
  
---  
End Chapter 9.  
--- 


	11. Epilouge

Memory. A simple thing, right?  
  
Many psychiatrists agree that studying human memory is one of the   
hardest parts of psychoanalytical education. Memory is subjective, collective,  
vital to human contentment, and yet completely unnecessary for a healthy life.  
Children struggle to remember what they ate for breakfast, teenagers remain  
bitter over yesterday's arguments with friends and parents, adults strive to   
memorize each happy moment of their lives, and the elderly regress to not   
knowing what they ate for breakfast. It's a thing that all people share, and   
yet something that no one can completely understand.  
  
Serenity knew this as she walked across the marble dais and up to the  
pedestal. As the Queen of the Earth, she had studied many subjects in and out  
of the university, and psychology had been one of her favorites. She especially  
loved the sections about memory and memory loss. Amnesia, selective memory   
loss, photographic memory, memorization techniques... She knew and loved it   
all. Not a day went by when she regaled one of us with her newest memory-  
related fact. But that had been years before, before the Black Moon and the   
war between past and present, before her own daughter had died in training to   
become a Sailor Senshi... It was before life had become such a task.  
  
I suppose that her action should not have come as a shock to any of   
us. The weekly meeting of her color guard - the joking name, of course, she   
had given the rest of the senshi and I - was unusually short. Serenity's   
silence did not bode well, and most of what she said was cryptic.   
  
"I have many thoughts of the past," she assured us after one of the   
inners had said a few disparaging comments about her aloofness. Her blue eyes   
glanced away from all of us, staring at the floor. "My thoughtfulness precedes  
my words this morning."  
  
Talk about out of character moments. Never before had the neo-queen   
been so polite and soft-spoken about something. No one needed to tell me   
that something was wrong. I could sense it.  
  
And so, only a few hours later, the Queen of the Earth strode across  
the dais and stood before the pedestal. She had erected the pedestal especially  
for the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou - the Silver Crystal of the Moon Kingdom of  
old. She was afraid that Chibi-Usa or another meddlesome being would attempt  
to seize the ginzuishou, and that was too big of a risk for Serenity. So she  
placed a pedestal in the darkest vault in the basement of Crystal Palace.   
Rarely did a soul venture into such depths. Even the queen herself disliked   
visiting her prized possession.  
  
Until then. Then, at that moment, she seized the crystal from its   
place on the dais and held it above her head. Silver light flared around her,  
sparkling, a brilliant reminder of the power of the ginzuishou.  
  
Memories flooded into the mind of the Earth's one queen. Memories of   
pain, of sorrow, of suffering and loss. Memories she had wished, for so long,  
to forget.  
  
Blue eyes closed, and a voice - soft, melodious, tearful - echoed   
above the hum of the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou.  
  
"I command thee, Crystal of Silver," she breathed, "that the Sailor  
Senshi of old forget all their trials and toil until the day comes for Tsukino  
Usagi to accept the throne of the Earth."  
  
I watched her as she said those few words, my gray-green gaze intent  
as I stood in the doorway beside my partner. The queen had been careful in our  
instructions; we were to follow her down to the vault at midnight and be silent  
about it, certain to make sure that the others knew nothing. It wasn't a   
difficult task, especially not when we knew just what was about to happen.   
  
"There," smiled Serenity, setting the Maboroshi no Ginzuishou back   
atop its pedestal carefully. "Everything is in place." She turned quickly,   
her face that of the fifteen-year-old school girl I had met so many years   
earlier. "Soon, it will begin again, just as you remember it."  
  
Michiru glanced at me, and I glanced back at her. Part of me wanted to   
remind the queen of how futile her efforts to suppress our memories would be,  
but neither of us dared say anything. After all, her failure had led to our  
ultimate success, and no one - not even I, the most argumentative of all the  
senshi - could argue with that much.  
  
The blonde woman chuckled pleasantly. "I know exactly what you're  
thinking, Uranus," she told me. I arched an eyebrow in confusion, and her   
smile broadened. "I knew all along that you and Neptune would find one another,  
and that was the whole point. I wanted to make sure that you wanted to be   
senshi, and the only way to test that was to test your love."  
  
My partner swallowed, suddenly uneasy. "So this was all a trial for  
Haruka and I?" she asked cautiously, her fingers toying idly with the skirt  
of her fuku.  
  
"Not completely," admitted Serenity, turning her head to glance back   
at the ginzuishou. "I wanted to give you all a chance to enjoy a life without  
obligation and battles, but I knew that nothing could last that long. Not when  
your bond was so strong." She glanced back at the two of us and smiled again,  
face bright. "It did help us find out more about who we were, though. For all  
of us."  
  
I thought about the day that I had gone channel surfing and saw all the  
others on television. Ami winning the Nobel prize, Rei as a dedicated miko,   
Makoto with a cooking show while Minako hosted a talk show... Somehow, she   
was right. We all had found out what was left without being a soldier.  
  
"You knew all along," I finally said, breaking the silence as the neo-  
queen walked past us and toward the stairs that would lead to her bedchamber.  
"You knew that the simple things in our life would lead us back to the more  
complicated reality. You knew it all."  
  
Neo-Queen Serenity, the ruler of the Earth, smiled knowingly down  
at me and nodded. "I did," she admitted with a shrug. "And I'm glad I gave you  
the chance to discover all that."  
  
I smiled back at her, my hand searching for and finding Sailor   
Neptune's. "Honestly," I responded, "so am I."  
  
And, like a fairy tale, it was done.  
  
Memories gone, memories returned, and memories being made, as though it  
was a simple thing.  
  
But then, on the other hand, perhaps it was a simple thing, all along. 


	12. End Notes

Credits, disclaimers, and special thanks:  
  
- "Simple Things" is written by Jim Brickman and Beth Neilsen Chapman and preformed  
by Rebbeca Lyn Howard on Brickman's "Simple Things" CD. It is property of those  
three and of Windam Hill Records, not me.  
  
- "The Tempest" was written by William Shakespeare. Read it. You'll like it.  
  
- Japanese gravesite tradition for people buried at Shinto burial grounds is to   
bring incense, flowers, and a bucket of water. The incense is lit and the water   
poured over the stones on the grave to purify the holy site. Then, the families   
pray and leave the flowers at the gravesite.  
  
- Sailor Moon and all respective characters, settings, and plot devices belong to  
Naoko Takeuchi, TOEI Animation, and Kodansha Limited. I do not reserve the rights  
to any of these things, so please please PLEASE do not sue!  
  
- All original characters, plot elements, and settings belong to Kate Butler. Those  
ARE mine, so don't try to take them.  
  
- If you want to listen to a cool J-Pop song while reading this, listen to Ayumi  
Hamasaki's song "Vogue." For some reason, it goes with the story. Especially with  
the rain-like sound in the background at the beginning. I can just see Michiru  
and Haruka standing in the rain to this song.  
  
- Special thanks to all the people who read and reviewed my fic, both on FF.net and  
on ASMR.   
  
- Very special thanks to Raven, who helped me with Chapter 7, both in listening to   
my ideas and by coming up with some of her own that fit quite well with the plot.  
  
- To Mark-kun, who gives me a reason to want to keep writing. I love you, dear one.  
  
- Visit A Sailor Moon Romance! www.moonromance.com  
  
- Visit Fanficiton.net! www.fanfiction.net  
  
- And remember... "The simple things just are." 


End file.
